Cori Jackson and the Lightning Thief
by Poseidon'sGryffindorDaughter
Summary: Cordelia "Cori" Jackson had always been a troublemaker, it was just her nature. But everything changes that day at the museum. Then she goes to Camp Half-Blood where she meets a certain handsome Son of Apollo. What happenes when she is sent on a quest with three others to find her dearest uncle's Lightning Bolt? Fem!Percy/Will Solace
1. I vaporize my pre-algebra teacher

**Hello, I've wanted for quite a long time to have a fanfiction of my own, so here it is.**

 **I have always loved and idea of a fem!Percy and thought that Will Solace never was mentioned enough, so I thought why not make them a couple.**

 **I have named the fem!Percy Cordelia because it means daughter/jewel of the sea.**

 **This is my first fanfiction ever and English is not my first language, but I hope that I've done well.**

 **Desclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson or any of the characters there. All right goes to Rick Riordan.**

 **Enjoy this chapter of Cori Jackson and the Lightning Thief!**

* * *

I didn't want to a half blood.

It just happened ya know?

If you possibly think you might be one, my advice is: close this book right now and throw it out of the window. Now that I'm thinking of it you can also put it in a really nice place, like the toilet for instance. But the best thing would be to burn it. Anyway off topic.

Believe whatever lie your dearest, innocent, but-not-so-innocent parents told you( like a big, bird left you at their door enternace because they so wanted a baby) and try to lead to a normal life.

Being a half-blood isn't all fluffys _and_ unicorns _and_ rainbows _and_ stuff.

It's a life-or/and-death situation, where you have to fight to live for another misirble day.

Most of the time, being a half-blood, gets you killed in painful, nasty and creepy ways.

If you're reading this, because you think it's fiction, then great, read on. I envy you for being able to believe that none of this ever happened.

But, if while reading this, you feel something, _anything_ strange stirring inside you, then stop reading immediately. You might be one of us and once you know that t _hey'll_ sense it too, and believe me or not _they'll_ find a way and come for you.

Okay now, confession time done. I have no responsibility of what will happen to you in the future.

Sooo, my name is Cordelia Melody Jackson.

Call my anything, but Cori and I will personally make sure that your face is rearranged or that you loose the ability to have kids. Trust me, I've got my ways.

I'm twelve years old and I go to a privet school for troubled kids at upstate New York.

Am I a troubled kid?

Hell, yeah.

You, know I'm just your avarage, everyday, adorable, but sneaky troublemaker.

You need just one look at me to think of that. My sea-green eyes are always sparkling with a mischievous glint thinking of the next prank. It doesn't take long, I'm a natural. I can't help it.

Anyways, as I was saying before, it all started one beautiful May day. See, all my classmates and I were going on a fiel trip to Manhattan. But I don't think it's a _really_ good idea to put twenty-eight-mental-case kids together in a yellow school bus with two teachers, one of them constantly yelling and glaring at them. You would ask: where is this sixth great class of Yancy going, hmm? (Notice the sarcasm please). Well, we were actually going to visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art tosee Greek and Roman stuff.

I know and understand you very well my young and devilish fellows- it sounds like pure torture, and believe me when I say it- it is.

You see- bad things happen to me on field trips. In my fifth grade class we were visiting the Saratoga battlefield. The historian was speaking so slowly to us and in such a monotone tone, you would think we were five years old. So I snaped ( and I don't regret it) and called him an ugly slug. Needless to say I instantly felt better.

Not the same could be said for him. So, he literally kicked me out. Not like I really cared, though. There I saw a Revolutionar War canon. I knew that things wouldn't end really well if I came near it, so I decided to stay away.

Now, please be at least a _bit_ understanding for the things that come afterwards. I have no fault of what's coming next. Blame the ADHD and the stupid historian.

I'm not telling how I got near the canon. I am only saying that it involved an annoying bird, a mental monkey and a flying banana. I swear I was aiming for the mental monkey and not the school bus, but of course I got expelled anyways.

While on my fourth grade...hehe. Long story short, we took a behind-the-scences tour of the Marine World shark pool. I sort of "accidentally" hit the wrong lever on the catwalk and our class took an unplanned swim inside the pool. Now, now the sharks weren't as bad as they made them sound. They were quite friendly...at least twards me. One thing I learned from that. Never, _ever_ let kids near dangerous, shiny ( _especially)_ red buttons.

While before that... Well, you probably get the idea.

But this trip, unlike any other of them, I was convinced (mostly by Grover) to be good.

Well, as good as I could be. Because there's no way in hell I'm going to stand there like a golden Mary Sue. No-o.

But, I actually had hopes, because Mr. Brunner, our Latin teacher was leading the trip.

Mr. Brunner was this middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. Really cool if you ask me. He had thinning hair and a scruffy beard and a frayed tweed jacket, which always smelled like coffe. You wouldn't think he'd be cool, but he told stories and jokes and let us play games in his class. He also had this awsome collection of Roman armour and weapons, so he was the only teacher whose class didn't put me to sleep, which was something.

All the way into the city I tried to put up with Nency Bobofit, the freckly, redhead kleptomaniac girl hitting on my best friend Grover in the back of the head with chunks os peanut butter-and-ketchup sandwich. Key word: tried.

Grover was an easy target. He was scrawny. He cried when he got frustrated. He must've been held back several grades, because he was the only sixth grader with acne and the start of a wispy beard on his chin. On the top of all that he was crippled. He had a note excusing him from PE for life because of a disease in his legs. He walked funny, like every step hurt him, but don't let him fool you. You should've seen him run when it was enchiladas day on the cafeteria. Jeez, I swear he could've won the Olympics like that.

Anyway, Nancy Bobofit was throwing wads of sandwich that stuck in his curly brown hair. I really tried to stay calm, because I was on probation, but luck wasn't on my side.

"I'm going to kill her" I mumbled.

Grover tried to calm me down "It's okay, I like peanut butter."

He dodged another piece of the-most-likely-person-to-be-pranked-next lunch.

"That's it." I started to get up, but Grover put me down back to my seat.

"You know who'll get blamed if anything happens." He reminded me.

"I don't care. I'm more than sure it'll be worth it." I said, but as he gave me a pointed look ( which looked remarkably funny on him)Then I added. " But this doesn't mean I won't prank her latter. I wonder how she'll react to having blue hair filled with peanut butter mixed with permanent glue." I smirked.

Grover must've realised that he couldn't do anything more and sighted. "Fine." He said, but then an identical smirk started forming on his face too. " But don't forget to make a video of her reaction, I'm sure other people around the world would want you to share it on YouTube. Now, now you should learn to be generous."

"I like the way you think Grover." But then realization came on my face. "Grover?"

"Yeah?" He asked unsure what to make out of my expression.

"I knew it!" I exclaimed. "I knew it, I would corrupt your one day."

He started laughing uncontrollibly. " Oh, no! The devil has possessed me! Help me please!"

"Oh, shut up! You know I'm awesome,"

"Arrogant much?" He asked.

* * *

Mr. Brunnet led the tour.

He rode up front in his wheelchair, guiding us through the big echoey galleries, past marble statues and glass cases full of old black-and-orange pottery.

It blew my mind that this stuff had survived for two thousand years, three thousand years.

He gathered us around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a big sphinx ob the too, and started telling us how it was a grever marker, a stele, for a girl around our age. He told us about the carvings on the sides. I was trying to listen what he had to say, because it was kind of interesting, but everybody was talking, and every time I told them to shut up, the other chaperone, Mrs. Dodds, would give me the evil eye.

Mrs. Dodds was a little math teacher from Georgia that always wore a black leather jacket, and looked mean enough to ride a Harley straight into your locker, no kidding. She came to Yancy, when our previous teacher had a nervous breakdown halfway through the year.

Since the first day here she figured that the red-freckled, annoying Nancy was an angel that fell from the sky (more like a gift from the devil if you ask me), and that I was the devil spawn. Honesty, I don't know what gave her the idea. In my opinion (and I think that I speak for all the poor students who have the horrid fate to be tought math by her) Mrs. Dodds is the She-Devil herself, or maybe a minion and that Nancy is somehow her child. Hey, you never know!

She would point he crooked finger at me and say, "Now honey" real sweet and I knew I was going to get after-school detention for a month. One time she had made me erase answers out of an old math book until midnight. And that was just because I pulled a prank on the school director. Hey! It's not my fault he is and old bat! I just...wanted to cheer him up a bit. Yeah, that's all!

Anyway, off topic, hehe. Stupid ADHD! That night I told Grover that I didn't think was human. He looked at me with a really serious expression stamped on his face and said, "You're absolutely right."

Mr. Bruner kept talking about Greek funeral art. Noisy Boobfit (as I decided to call her at the moment) snickered something about the naked guy on the stele, and I turned and said, "Will you shut up."

It came out louder than I meant it to.

The whole group laughed and Mr. Bruner stopped his story.

"Miss Jackson," he started, " did you have a comment?"

My face probabbly resembled a tomato. "No, sir"

Mr. Brunner pointed at one of the pictures on the stele. " Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?"

I needed only one look on the picture to realize which it was. I mentally thanked my mom for telling me all those myths from Greek mythology. "That's Kronos eating his kids, right?"

"And he did this because...?" He continued obviously not satisfied with my answer.

"Well, Kronos was the King Titan and he didn't trust his kids, because of a curse his father Ouranos had placed on him. So, he ate them, but his wife, Rhea, hid baby Zeus and gave him a rock instead. When Zeus was old enough he tricked his father into barfing up his brothers and sisters. They called themselves the gods and won the war between the gods and Titans."

Some snickers from the group.

Behind me guess-who-said-it mumbled to a friend. "Like we're going to need why Kronos ate his kids. It's not like there'll be a question in our job application 'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids'."

"And why, Miss Jackson" Brunner said," to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?"

"Busted." Grover muttered.

"Shut up." Noisy B. hissed, her face even redder than her hair.

At least Nancy got packed too. Mr. Brunner was the only one who ever caught her saying anything wrong. He had radar ears.

I thought about his question and shrugged, "I don't know sir."

"I see," Mr. Brunner looked disappointed. " Well half credit Miss Jackson. Zeus did indeed feed his father a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. On that happy note it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds would you lead us back outside?"

The class drifted off, the girls holding their stomachs, the guys pushing each other around like doofuses.

Grover and I were about to follow when Mr. Brunner said, "Miss Jackson."

I knew that was coming.

I told Grover to keep going. Then I turned toward Mr. Brunner, "Sir?"

Mr. Brunner had this look that couldn't let you go- intense brown eyes that could've been a thousand years old and had seen everything.

"You must learn the answer of my question," Mr. Bruner told me.

"About the Titans?"

"About real life. And how your studies apply to it."

"Oh," was my oh-so-smart answer.

"What you learn from me," he said, " is vitally important. I expect you to treat it as such. I will accept only the best from you Cori Jackson."

I wanted to get angry, This guy pushed me so hard.

I mean, sure, it was kind of cool on tournament days when he dressed up in a suit of Roman armor and shouted: "What ho!" And challenged us, sword-point against chalk to run to the board and name every Greek and Roman person who ever lived, and their mother, and what God they worshipped. But Mr. Bruner expected me to be as good as everyone else, despite the fact that I had dyslexia and ADHD and I have never made above C- in my life. No- he didn't expect me to be as good; he expected me to be better. And I just couldn't learn all those names and facts and much less spell them correctly.

I mumbled something about trying harder, while Mr. Bruner took one long look at the stele, like he'd been at this girl's funeral.

He told me to go outside and eat my lunch.

The class gathered on the front steps of the museum, where we could watch the foot traffic along Fifth Avenue.

Overheard a huge storm was brewing, with clouds blacker than I'd ever seen on the city. I figured many it was global warming or something, because the weather all across New York State had been weird since Christmas. We'd had massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn't be surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in.

Surprisingly, nobody else seemed to notice. Some of the guys were pelting pigeons with Lunchables crackers. Nancy Bobofitwas trying to pickpocket something from a lady's purse, (Even _I_ could do better than that. She just made it _soooo_ obvious) and, of course, Mrs. Dodds wasn't seeing a thing.

Now, like every school, ours too had different groups of students. Three of them are most common.

The first group contains 'the popular students' ( TPS). The richly idiots that never study , think that school was their property and worry if they have or haven't put enough makeup. I swear if see one more girl dressed up like a Barbie doll making out with some football player in a corner, I'm going to vomit.

The second contains the TPS's minions. The ones that do the dirty jobs and go after them like lost puppies.

The third are the nerdies. Honestly, I feel a bit bad for them. They don't do anything wrong and still are made fun of. There's nothing I hate more than bullies.

And here is where I kick in ( Yeah, me the hero). No matter what people believe, I do have a nobel side. That's mostly why I started to prank. I hated that bullies made fun of people, so I thought 'why not make fun of them?'

I'm not saying that it's not fun, 'cuz it actually is, and I love it. If it wasn't for pranking, I would have never, _ever_ opened a math or chemistry book in my life. I sometimes need those _things_ that are said there to make my pranks work. It's not that I'm not smart, I'm very intelligent in fact, but the ADHD and dyslexia make my life a living hell. I'm more than sure I could've lived without it, thank you very much.

Grover and I sat on the edge of the fountain, away from the others. We thought that maybe if we did that, everybody wouldn't know we were from _that_ school- the school for loser freaks who couldn't make it elsewhere.

"Detention?" Grover asked.

"Nah," I said. "Not from Brunner. I just wish he'd lay off sometimes. I mean- I'm the troublemaker, not the freakin' genius."

Grover didn't say anything for a while. Then, when I thought he was going to give me some deep philosophical comment he said, "Can I have your apple?"

I didn't have much of an appetite, so I let him take it.

I watched the stream of cabs going down the Fifth Avenue, and thought about my mom's apartment, only a little ways uptown from where we sat. I hadn't seen her since Christmas. I wanted so bad to jump on a taxi and head home. She'd hug me and be glad to see me, but she'd be disappointed too. She'd sent me right back to Yancy, remind me that I had to try harder, even if this was my sixth school in six years and I was probably going to be kicked out again. I wouldn't be able to stand that sad look she'd give me.

Mr. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicapped ramp. He ate celery while reading a paperback novel. A red umbrella stuck up at the back of his chair, making it look like a motorized café table. So cool!

I should've known that my luck wasn't going to last that long. I was about to unwrap my sandwitch when the psychopath appeared in front of me with her ugly friends- I guess she'd gotten tired of stealing from the tourists- and dumbed her half-eaten lunch on Grover's lap.

"Oops." She grinned at me with her crooked teeth. Her freckles were an ugly shade of orange as if somebody had spray-painted her face with liquid Cheetos. Can you say Yack?

I tried to stay cool. Key ward: tried. The school counselor had told me a million times, "Count to ten, get control of your temper." I didn't even reach two when my mind went blank. A wave roard in my ears.

I don't remember touching her, but the next thing I know, Nancy was sitting on her butt in the fountain, screaming, "Cori pushed me!"

Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us.

Some of the kids were whispering: "Did you see-"

"-the water-"

"- like it grabbed her-"

I didn't know what they were talking about. All I knew was that I was in trouble again.

As soon as Mrs. Dodds was sure poor little Nancy was okay, promising to get her a new shirt at the museum goft shop, etc., etc., Mrs. Dodds turned on me. There was a triumphant fire in her eyes, as if I'd done something she'd been waiting all semester. "Now, honey come with me."

"Wait!" Grover yelped. "It was me. _I_ pushed her."

I stared at him, stunned. I couldn't believe he was trying to cover for me. Mrs. Dodds scared Grover to death.

She glared at him so hard his whiskery chin trembled.

"I don't think so Mr. Underwood," she said.

"But-"

"You- _will_ -stay-here."

Grover looked at me desperately.

"It's okay, G-man," I told him while patting his back. "Thanks for trying."

"Honey," Mrs. Dodds barked at me. " _Now_ "

Nancy Bobofit smirked.

I gave her my deluxe I'll-kill-and-prank-you-later stare. I felt better when I saw a terrified look on her face. Well, what can I say? My glare did that to people. That's why most of them didn't want to meet my bad side. Then I turned to face , but she wasn't there. She was standing at the museum enterance, way at the top of the steps, gesturing impatiently at me to come on.

How'd she get there so fast?

I have moments like that a lot, when my brain falls asleepor something, and the next thing I know I've missed something, as if puzzle piece fell out of the universe and left me staring at the blank place behind it. The school counselor told me this was part of the ADHD, my brain misinterpreting things.

I wasn't so sure.

I went after Mrs. Dodds.

Halfway up the steps, I glanced back at Grover. He was looking pale, his eyes cutting between me and Mr. Brunner, like he wanted Mr. Brunner to notice what was going on, but Mr. Brunner was absorbed in his novel.

I looked back up. Mrs. Dodds had disappeared again. She was now inside the building at the end of the enterance hall.

Okay, I thought. She's going to make me buy a new T-Shirt for poor, poor Nancy at the gift shop. Huh, thank god I took some money with me.

But, apparently that wasn"t the plan.

I followed her deeper into the museum. When I finally cought up to her, we were back at the Greek and Roman section.

Except for us, the gallery was empty.

Mrs. Dodds stood with her arms crossed in front of a big marble frieze of the Greek gods. She was making a weird noise in her throat, like growling. It sounded like a big, angry dog, and I speak from experience, believe me.

Even without the noise, I would've been nervous. It's weird being alone with a teacher, especially Mrs. Dodds. Something about the way she looked at the frieze, as if she wanted to pulverize it…

"You've been giving us problems, honey," she said.

I did the safe thing. I said, "Yes, ma'am."

She tugged on the cuffs of her leather jacket. "Did you really think you could get away withit?"

The look in her eyes was beyond mad. It was evil. If you looked carefully, you could also see pure torture in them, madness. Not a new thing, I thought. Only one look at her and everybody can see she's evil, _right?_

I said, "I'll try harder ma'am."

Thunder shook the building.

"We are no fools, Cordelia Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said. "It was only a matter of time before we found out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain."

I didn't know what she was talking about. And the fact that she used my full name didn't help the matters.

All I could think was that the teachers must've found out that it was me who pulled the prank at Dylan Stream. No, I thought. Susane was accused for that one. Oh, maybe she finally has enough evidence now that I stuck the gum on Mr. Bones shoes and that it was because of that he fell and broke his leg. Or maby they'd realized I got my essay on _Tom Sawyer_ from the Internet without ever reading the book and now were going to take away my grade. Or worse, they were going to make me read the book. I gulped at the thought. Nobody can be that evil now, _right_? That's pure torture for a poor, adorable dyslexic kid.

"Well?" she demanded.

"Ma'am, I don't…"

"Your time is up," she hissed.

Then the weirdest thing happened. Her eyes began to glow like barbecue coals. Her fingers stretched, turning into talons. Her jacket melted into large, leathery wings. She wasn't human. She was a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs, and she was about to slice me to ribbons.

Then things got even stranger.

Mr. Brunner, who'd been out in front of the museum a minute before, wheeled his chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a pen in his hand.

"What ho, Cori!" he shouted, and tossed the pen through the air.

Mrs. Dodds lunged at me.

With a yelp, I dodged and felt talons slash the air next to my ear. I snatched the ballpoint pen out of the air, but when it hit my hand, it wasn't a pen anymore. It was a sword-Mr. Brunner's bronze sword, which he always used on tournament day.

Mrs. Dodds spun toward me with a murderous look in her eyes.

My knees were jelly, but I quickly pulled myself together. She snarled, "Die, honey!"

And she flew straight at me.

Absolute terror ran through my body. I did the only thing that came naturally: I swung the sword.

The metal blade hit her shoulder and passed clean through her body as if she were made of water. Hisss!

Mrs. Dodds was a sand castle in a power fan. She exploded into yellow powder, vaporized on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes were still watching me.

I was alone.

There was a ballpoint pen in my hand.

Mr. Brunner wasn't there. Nobody was there but me.

Ookay, I thought. This was….strange.

Had I imagined the whole thing?

I don't know.

I went back outside.

It had started to rain.

Nancy Bobofit was still standing where I left her, soaked from her swim in the fountain, grumbling to her ugly friends. When she saw me, she said, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt."

I said, "Who?"

"Our _teacher_. Duh!"

I blinked. We had no teacher named Mrs. Kerr. I asked Nancy what she was talking about.

She just rolled her eyes and walked away.

Thunder boomed overhead.

I saw Mr. Brunner sitting under his red umbrella, reading his book as if he'd never moved.

I went over to him.

He looked up, a little distracted. "Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future Miss Jackson."

I handed Mr. Brunner his pen. I hadn't even realized I was still holding it.

"Sir," I said, "where's Mrs. Dodds?"

He stared at me blankly. "Who?"

"The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher."

He frowned and sat forward, looking mildy concerned. "Cori, there is no Mrs. Doddson this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling all right?"

"Yeah," I said, "I'm fine. Just a bit tired from the trip." And I left without saying another word. I headed towards Grover.

I asked him where Mrs. Dodds was.

He said, "Who?"

But he paused first, and he wouldn't look at me. So, I knew he was lying. I just did.

The whole school could fool me with that, but Grover couldn't. Maby it was because he was a really bad liar or he was my best friend, but one thing was clear in my head: _Something had happened inside the museum, and I'm going to find out what it was._


	2. Three Old Ladies and the Voice of Reason

**Heey, I'm back. Missed me?**

 **Soo, I'm really happy that I actually got 3 reviews, 45 views and 4 favorites.**

 **Thank you everybody who got their time and read my story. You have no idea how grateful I am.**

 **I don't own Percy Jackson. All right goes to Rick Riordan.**

 **Enjoy the chapie ;)**

* * *

 **Chapter 2. Three Old Ladies and the Voice**

My life is _weird_.

I'm _weird_ and I'm not lying.

I have witnessed millions of _weird_ situations.

But _this_ is the definition of **_weird_**. It takes the first prize.

This twenty-four/seven hallucination was more than I could handle. It appears that the whole school was somehow convinced that a perky blonde woman ( she was definitely a Barbie lover. RIP to me. Now I'm _soo_ buying a Death to Barbie T-Shirt) who was called Mrs. Kerr had been our pre-algebra teacher since Christmas.

Every so often I would mention something about Mrs. Dodds and wait for people to say " _Hey, so you finally figured that Mrs. Dodds was real. Man, we were having so much fun tricking you."_ I never thought I'd be happy to know that I was pranked. But, no. Nope it didn't happen. The others just stared at me blankly as if it was me who was tricking them. Talk about psychos.

The nightmares wouldn't leave me alone either. Mrs. Dodds bat-like figure with talons and leathery wings hunted my dreams and for the first time in many years I'm saying it: I was scared. I probably wouldn't admit it out aloud, but to me, it looked like everybody knew. I felt weak. And I didn't like it.

For the sake of my sanity I wanted to believe that she wasn't real.

I was almost convinced that Mrs. Dodds had never been to Yancy.

Almost.

The nightmares and Grover proved different.

He couldn't fool me. If there was someone who knew when Grover was lying ( and he just made it _so_ obvious. Maybe I should give him lessons on how to lie properly, I could make it my business), it was me. He hesitated and then claimed that he didn't know what I was talking about. After that he tried to change the subject. I could tell it was bothering him a lot, and that's why I mentioned it more and more.

The freak weather continued, which didn't help my mood. One night, a thunderstorm blew out the windows in my dorm room. A few days later, the biggest tornado ever spotted in the Hudson Valley touched down only fifteen miles from Yancy. One of the current events we studied in social studies class was the unusual number of small planes that had gone down in sudden squalls in the Atlantic that year.

My mood wasn't improving. And nor were my grades, but the fights with Nancy and her gang definitely were. I was sent out in the hallway in almost every class.

Then I snapped. I couldn't take it any longer. Mr. Nicoll, our English teacher, was getting on my nerves. He knows very well that I've got dyslexia and just _loves_ to tease me about it. I'm 99 % sure it had something to do with me pulling a prank on him in the beginning of the school year. It's not my fault. He deserved it, just as he deserved being called an old sot. I didn't know the _exact_ definition, but it sounded good at the moment.

Then our _precious_ headmaster had sent my mother a letter. And the inevitable was now official. I wouldn't be invited to Yancy next fall.

Peachy, I thought, just fine.

I was homesick.

I wanted to be with my mom ( no matter how much I denied it I would always be a mommy's girl) in our little apartment on the Upper East Side, even if it meant that I had to go to a public school and put up with my obnoxious, smelly stepfather and his stupid poker parties.

But. . . I would miss things at Yancy. The view of the woods from my dorm window ( they were a great hiding place if you were running away from someone just after a good, fine prank) , the Hudson River from the distance, the smell of pine trees. I'd miss Grover, who despite being a bit strange had melted his way into my heart. I was worried sick how he'd survive next year without me.

I'd miss Latin class too- Mr. Brunner's crazy tournament days and his faith in me, making me believe I could do well.

So, a few weeks later the tests finally came. I welcomed them with all my good heart ( so much for sarcasm, huh?). I didn't study a bit. I knew I wouldn't be invited next year here, so why bother? I loved watching the other students struggle, trying to remember some things.

Actually, Latin was the only class I studied for. I hadn't forgotten what Mr. Brunner had told me about his subject being life-and-death for me. I didn't know why, but I'd started to believe him.

* * *

The afternoon before my final, I got so frustrated I threw the _Cambridge Guide to Greek Mythology_ across my dorm room. My dyslexia had decided to make me a present by making itself worse (if that was even possible). The words were playing with each-other, jumping from one place to another. They were even doing one-eighties as if they were riding skateboards. Wait a minute… Skateboards!

I got up, wore a pair of skinny black jeans and a blue-green t-shirt that matched my eyes, grabbed a pair of shoes, my skateboard and headed for the park in front of our school. Riding a skateboard always managed to calm me down, if only a little bit. While skating across the park and doing different tricks I had learned over the past years, I thought about the Latin exam.

There was no way I was going to remember the difference between Chiron and Charon, or Polydictes and Polydeuces. And conjugating those Latin verbs? Forget it. I'll die of a head explosion first.

An hour later, after I was finally cheered up a bit, I got back to my dorm. I remembered Mr. Brunner's serious expression, his thousand-year-old-eyes. _I will exept only the best from you Cori Jackson._

I took a deep, long breath. As far as I remembered I had never asked a teacher for help ( I guess there's always a first). I could at least apologize for the low grade I was going to get. I didn't want him to think that I hadn't tried.

I walked down downstairs to the faculty offices. Most of them were dark and empty, but Mr. Brunner's door was ajar, light from his window stretching across the hallway floor.

I was three steps from the door handle when inside I heard Mr. Brunner ask a question and a voice who was definitely Grover's answered, ". . .worried about Cori, sir."

I froze right there.

I _had_ eavesdropped quite a few times, and I didn't like it. But try not to listen to your best and only friend talking to an adult about you, I dare you.

I inched closer.

". . .alone this summer," Grover was saying. " I mean, a Kindly One in the _school!_ Now that we know for sure, and _they_ know too-"

"We would only make matters worse by rushing her," Mr. Brunner said. "We need the girl to mature more."

"But she may have no time. The summer solstice deadline-"

"Will have to be resolved without her Grover. Let her enjoy her ignorance while she still can."

"Sir, she _saw_ her. . ."

"Her imagination," Mr. Brunner insisted. "The Mist over the students and staff will be enough to convince her of that."

"Sir, I. . . I can't fail in my duties again," Grover's voice was choked with emotion. "You know what that would mean."

"You haven't failed, Grover," Mr. Brunner said kindly. "I should have seen her for what she was. Now let's just worry about keeping Cori alive until next fall-"

The mythology book dropped out of my hand and hit the floor with a thud. I mentally cursed myself. _Never_ give away you position. That's the first rule in the book.

Mr. Brunner went silent.

My heart hammering, I picked up the book and backed down the hall.

A shadow slid across the lighted glass of Brunner's office door, the shadow of something much taller than my wheelchair-bound teacher, holding something that looked suspiciously like an archers bow.

I hid behind a corner, the darkness covering me completely.

A few seconds later I heard a slow _clop-clop-clop,_ like muffled wood blocks, then an animal snuffling right outside my door. A large, dark shape paused in front of the glass, I gulped, holding my breath hoping that I wouldn't be noticed. Then the figure moved on.

Somehow in the hallway, Mr. Brunner spoke.

"Nothing," he murmured. "My nerves haven't been right since the winter solstice."

"Mine neither," Grover said. "But I could've sworn. . ."

"Go back to the dorm," Mr. Brunner told him. "You've got a long day of exams tomorrow."

"Don't remind me."

The lights went out in Mr. Brunner's office.

I waited in the dark for what seemed like forever.

Finally, I slipped out into the hallway and made my way back up to my dorm.

Grover was lying on his bed, studying his Latin exam notes like he'd been there all night.

Now, before you ask why are a girl and a boy doing in the same dorm, I'm giving you explanations. Long story short, that was the only dorm available and we were the only students without one.

"Hey," he said bleary-eyed. "You going to be ready for the test?"

 _Yeah,_ I thought, _of course. As if I can worry about the test now that I heard you talk behind my back._

I didn't answer.

"You look awful." He frowned. "Is everything okay?"

 _Have you ever heard that you should never say something like that to a girl? You look horrible my ass!_

"Just. . . tired."

I turned so he couldn't read my expression, and started getting ready for bed.

I didn't understand what I'd heard downstairs. I wanted to believe I'd imagined the whole thing.

But one thing was clear in my head: Grover had been talking with Mr. Brunner about me behind my back. They thought I was in some kind of danger and both of them knew that Mrs. Dodds was real. So I was right. I wasn't going insane. What had they called her? A Flowery One?

 **Nope. It was a Kindly one.**

 _Who would call a_ thing _like her_ kind _?_

 **Them, of course.**

 _Stupid people, messing with my thoughts._

 **I feel you.**

 _Yeah. . . Hey! Wait a minute! Who_ are _you?_

 **Oh, you know. I'm that little annoying voice in everyone's back of the head that tells them what to do.**

 _Can you help me with this? 'Cuz it's getting on my nerves._

 **Nope. I'm practically your voice of reason. I know just as much as you do.**

 _Then screw you. I don't need you._

 **Riiiight.**

 _Get out of my head._

 **I can't. I told you I'm your voice of reason, your consciousness.**

 _Shut up._

And with that I fell asleep.

* * *

The next afternoon, as I was leaving the three-hour Latin exam, my eyes swimming with all the Greek and Roman names I'd misspelled, Mr. Brunner called me back inside.

For a moment, I was worried he'd found out about eavesdropping the night before, but that didn't seem to be the problem.

"Cori," he said. "Don't be discouraged about leaving Yancy. It's . . . It's for the best."

His voice was kind, but the words still embarrassed me. Even though he was speaking quietly, the other kids finishing the test could hear. Noisy B. smirked at me and made sarcastic little kissing motions with her lips.

I mumbled, "Okay, sir." I was trying to control my temper.

"I mean . . . " Mr. Brunner wheeled his chair back and forth, like he wasn't sure what to say. "This isn't the right place for you. It was only a matter of time."

My eyes stung.

He was my favorite teacher. The only one who hadn't given up on me since the first day at school. The one who said he believed in me. _This_ teacher was now telling me that I was destined to be kicked out. I couldn't believe me. I was mad.

"Right," I said, angriness could be read in my eyes.

"No, no," Mr. Brunner said. "Oh, confound it all. What I'm trying to say . . . you're not normal, Cori. That's nothing to be-"

"Thanks," I blurted. "Thanks a lot, sir, for pointing out the obvious."

"Cori-"

But I was already gone.

* * *

On the last day of term, I shoved my clothes into my suitcase.

All the other boys and girls were talking about their vocation plans. One of them was cruising the Caribbean for a month; another one was visiting Switzerland. They were juvenile delinquents, like me. But they were _rich_ juvenile delinquents. Their mommies and daddies were executives, ambassadors and celebrities. I was nobody, from a family of nobodies.

They asked me what I'd be doing this summer and I told them I'd be staying in the city.

"Oh," one of the guys said. "That's cool."

Then they went back to their conversation and talked to me only when they tried to flirt.

The only person I dreaded saying good-buy to was Grover, but as it turned out, I didn't have to. He had booked a ticket to Manhattan on the same Greyhound as I had, so we were heading to the city together.

During the whole bus ride, Grover kept glancing nervously down the aisle, watching the other passengers. It occurred to me that he'd always acted nervous and fidgety when we left Yancy, as if he expected something bad to happen. Before, I'd always assumed he was worried about getting teased. But there was nobody to tease him on the Greyhound.

Finally I couldn't stand it anymore.

I said, "Looking for Kindly Ones? The ones like Mrs. Dodds?"

Grover nearly jumped out of his seat. "Wha-what do you mean?

I confessed about eavesdropping on him and Mr. Brunner the night before the exam.

Grover's eye twitched. "How much did you hear?"

"Oh ... Not much. What's the summer solstice dead-line?" I tried to say coolly like it didn't matter much.

He winced. "Look, Cori ... I was just worried for you, see? I mean, hallucinating about demon math teachers ... "

"Grover-"

"And I was telling Mr. Brunner that maybe you were overstressed or something, because there was no such person as Mrs. Dodds, and ... "

"Grover, you're a really, really bad liar."

His ears turned pink.

From his shirt pocket, he found out a grubby business card. "Just take this, okay? In case you need me this summer."

The card was in a fancy script, which was murder to my dyslexic eyes, but I finally made out something like:

 ** _Grover Underwood_**

 ** _Keeper_**

 ** _Half-Blood Hill_**

 ** _Long Island, New York_**

 ** _(800) 009-0009_**

"Really, what's with the writing? Couldn't find another one ?"

"Just read."

"What's Half-"

"Don't say it aloud!" he yelped. "That's my um . . . summer address."

My heart sank. Grover had a summer home. I'd never considered that his family might be as reach as the others at Yancy.

"Okay," I said glumly "So, like, if I want to come to visit your mansion."

He nodded. "Or . . . or if you need me."

"Why would I need you?"

It came harsher than I meant it to.

Grover blushed right down to his Adam apple. "Look, Cori, the truth is, I-I kind of have to protect yoy."

I stared at him.

All year long, I'd gotten in fights, keeping bullies away from him. I'd lost sleep worrying that he'd get beaten up next year without me. And here he was acting like he was the one who defended me.

"Grover, " I said, "what exactly are you protecting me from?"

There was a huge grinding noise under our feet. Black smoke poured from the dashboard and the whole bus filled with a smell like rotten eggs. The driver cursed and limped the Greyhound over to the side of the highway.

After a few minutes clanking around in the engine compartment, the driver announced that we'd all have to get off. Grover and I filed outside with everybody else.

We were on a stretch of country road-no place you'd notice if you didn't break down there. On our side of the highway was nothing but maple trees and litter from passing cars. On the other side, across four lanes of asphalt shimmering with afternoon heat, was an old-fashioned fruit stand.

The stuff on sale looked really good: heaping boxes of blood-red cherries and apples, walnuts and apricots, jugs of cider in a claw-foot tub full of ice. There were no customers, just three old ladies sitting in rocking chairs in the shade of a maple tree., knitting the biggest pair of socks I'd ever seen.

I mean these socks were the size of sweaters, but they were clearly socks. The lady on the right knitted one of them. The lady on the left knitted the other. The lady in the middle held an enormous basket of electric-blue yarn.

All three women looked ancient, with pale faces wrinkled like fruit leather, silver hair tied back in white bandannas, bony arms sticking out of bleached cotton dresses.

The weirdest thing was, they seemed to be looking right at me.

I looked over at Grover to say something about this and saw that the blood had drained from his face. His nose was twitching.

"Grover?" I said. "Hey, man-"

"Tell me they're not looking at you. They are, aren't they?"

"Yeah, weird, huh?" There was something strange with the way they were looking at me, as if reading my soul. It brought me creeps. "Hey," I shouted. "you know, it's rude to look like that at people."

"Not funny Cori, not funny at all."

The old lady in the middle took out a huge pair of scissors-gold and silver, long-bladed, like shears. I heard Grover catch his breath.

We're getting on the bus, " he told me. "Come on. "

"What?" I said. "It's a thousand degrees in there. "

"Come on!'" He pried open the door and climbed inside, but I stayed back.

Across the road, the old ladies were still watching me. The middle one cut the yarn, and I swear I could hear that snip across four lanes of traffic. Her two friends balled up the electric-blue socks, leaving me wondering who they could possibly be for-Sasquatch or Godzilla.

At the rear of the bus, the driver wrenched a big chunk of smoking metal out of the engine compartment. The bus shuddered, and the engine roared back to life.

"Darn right!" yelled the driver. He slapped the bus with his hat. "Everybody back on board!"

Once we got going, I started feeling feverish, as if I'd caught the flu.

Grover didn't look much better. He was shivering and his teeth were chattering.

"Grover?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you not telling me?"

He dabbed his forehead with his shirt sleeve. "Cori, what did you see back at the fruit stand?"

"You mean the old ladies? What is it about them, man? They're not like ... Mrs. Dodds, are they?"

His expression was hard to read, but I got the feeling that the fruit-stand ladies were something much, much worse than Mrs. Dodds.

 **Yes, they are.**

 _Not now._

He said, "Just tell me what you saw. "

"The middle one took out her scissors, and she cut the yarn. "

He closed his eyes and made a gesture with his fingers that might've been crossing himself, but it wasn't. It was something else, something almost-older.

He said, "You saw her snip the cord. "

"Yep."

"This is not happening, " Grover mumbled. He started chewing at his thumb. "I don't want this to be like the last time. "

"What last time?"

"Always sixth grade. They never get past sixth. "

"Grover, " I said, because he was really starting to scare me and this coming from someone who isn't scared easily. "What are you talking about?"

"Let me walk you home from the bus station. Promise me. "

This seemed like a strange request to me, but I promised he could.

No answer.

"Grover-that snipping of the yarn. Does that mean somebody is going to die?"

He looked at me mournfully, like he was already picking the kind of flowers I'd like best on my coffin. (just let it be something blue and you're alright with me)


	3. Grover unexpectedly loses his pants

**Hey folks!**

 **Here I am again, and since I got so many views yesterday I wanted to get chapter three done by today, so here it is.**

 **I want some of you to be more familiar with Cori's past. That's why I've decided to write some short flashbacks of her childhood. I hope you like them!**

 **I also wanted to ask you a question: Do you want Will to be a 'flirty' or a 'kind' kind of guy? Review please ;)**

 **Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own Percy Jackson, Rick Riordan does (lucky man ).**

* * *

 **A little girl, looking no more than six with long black hair that reached her bum and pleading sea-green eyes, was asking her mother, "Mommy, mommy please can we get a pet? I really want one please!"**

 **"** **What kind of pet do you want, honey?"**

 **"** **Hmm," she had a thoughtful expression in her face that made her look adorable. "A dog!" she finally answered.**

 **"** **We cannot keep a dog Cori, but we can take a fish if you want,"**

 **The most genuine smile was formed in her face, "Yes, yes mommy I want a fish! I can call him Bob (just like Bob the Titan and little Bob, do you remember them?)."**

 **An hour later, after visiting many, many pet shops, they had found a little golden fish and put him into an aquarium inside their small apartment.**

 **"** **Mommy, Bob says that he likes his new home!"**

 **"** **How- how do you know?" asked Sally concerned.**

 **"** **He told me," she shrugged.**

* * *

 ** _Chapter 3. Grover unexpectedly loses his pants_**

Dear Diary,

I've always been a good kid. You know me.

 **Yeah, *snorts* a good kid. *starts laughing***

 _Shut up, you're just jealous._

Anyways, I'm a good, innocent kid. The only bad thing I've ever done, and when I say ever, I men ever , done was . . .

 **Come on don't be so dramatic! I'm not paying you to do theater here!**

 _Wait you're paying me?_

 **…no coment…**

Okay, it was ditching Grover. I know it wasn't the _nicest_ thing to do but he was giving me creeps. He kept looking nervously everywhere, as if _something_ ( and with something mean some _thing_ like Mrs. Dodds) was going to pop right there and kill me, by melting my whole being with laser eyes (hey, it could happen!).

He kept muttering the same wards over and over: "Why does it always have to be sixth grade?", "Why does this always happen?"

I knew he was keeping something from me and I didn't like it.

 **Thanks Capitan Obvious!**

 _Will you shut up!_

I saw some heads turning back to see me. Oops! I must've said that out aloud! I seriously need to stop shouting things.

Ahem… off topic. Grover asked me stay there while he made a beeline for the restroom. Instead of waiting, I got my suitcase, slipped outside, and caught the first taxi uptown.

"East One-hundred-and-fourth and First, " I told the driver.

One word about my mom before you meet her.

Her name is Sally Jackson and she is the dictionary definition of the perfect person with the rottenest luck! Honest! Her own parents died in a plane crush when she was five. Then she had to live with an uncle who didn't give a crap about her. She wanted to be a novelist, so she spent high school working to save enough money for a college with a good creative-writing program. Then her uncle got cancer, and she had to quit school her senior year to take care of him. After he died, she was left with no money, no family, and no diploma.

The only good break she ever got was meeting my dad.

I don't have any memories of him, just this sort of warm glow, maybe the barest trace of his smile. My mom doesn't like to talk about him because it makes her sad. She has no pictures. I would have actually appreciated if she had. I don't know how he looked like, but she has claimed that I'm like his younger female version, so I figured he should've been quite handsome.

See, they weren't married. She told me he was rich and important, and their relationship was a secret. Then one day, he set sail across the Atlantic on some important journey, and he never came back.

Lost at sea, my mom told me. Not dead. Lost at sea.

She worked odd jobs, took night classes to get her high school diploma, and raised me on her own. She never complained or got mad. Not even once. But I knew I wasn't an easy kid.

Finally, she married Gabe Ugliano ( is that even a surename?), who was nice the first thirty seconds we knew him, then showed his true colors as a world-class jerk. When I was young, I nick-named him Smelly Gabe. I'm sorry, but it's the truth. The guy reeked like moldy garlic pizza wrapped in gym shorts. Then, when my vocabulary became richer I changed it into Ugly (you get it? Ugly-Ugliano) Baboon King of Monsters. I think it suits him. He could pass as one every day.

Between the two of us, we made my mom's life pretty hard. The way Baboon King treated her, the way he and I got along ... Well, when I came home is a good example.

I walked into our little apartment, hoping my mom would be home from work. Instead, Baboon King was in the living room, playing poker with his buddies. The television blared ESPN. Chips and beer cans were strewn all over the carpet.

Hardly looking up, he said around his cigar, "So, you're home. "

"Where's my mom?"

"Working, " he said. "You got any cash?"

That was it. No Welcome back. Good to see you. How has your life been the last six months?

Gabe had put on weight. He looked like a tuskless walrus in thrift-store clothes. He had about three hairs on his head, all combed over his bald scalp, as if that made him handsome or something.

He managed the Electronics Mega-Mart in Queens, but he stayed home most of the time. I don't know why he hadn't been fired long before. Maybe they just paid him to stay away. It's a good theory. He just kept on collecting paychecks, spending the money on cigars that made me nauseous, and on beer, of course. Always beer. Whenever I was home, he expected me to provide his gambling funds. He called that our "father and daughter secret. " Meaning, if I told my mom, he would punch my lights out.

"I don't have any cash, " I told him.

He raised a greasy eyebrow.

Gabe could sniff out money like a bloodhound, which was surprising, since his own smell should've covered up everything else.

"You took a taxi from the bus station, " he said. Probably paid with a twenty. Got six, seven bucks in change. Somebody expects to live under this roof, he ought to carry his own weight. Am I right, Eddie?"

"Wow, Gabe, I didn't know you did math," I faked surprise

Gabe ignored my comment. "Eddie?"

Eddie, the super of the apartment building, looked at me with a twinge of sympathy. He had always understood me, he was the only one of Gabe buddies who had respect for females. "Come on, Gabe, " he said. "The kid just got here. "

"Am I right?" Gabe repeated.

Eddie scowled into his bowl of pretzels. The other two guys passed gas in harmony. You know what? Forget what I said.

"Fine, " I said. I dug a dollar out of my pocket and threw the money on the table. "I hope you lose. "

"Your report card came, brainy!" he shouted after me. "I wouldn't act so snooty!"

I slammed the door to my room, which really wasn't my room. During school months, it was Gabe's "study. " He didn't study anything in there( he doesn't have enough brain to) except old car magazines, but he loved shoving my stuff in the closet, leaving his muddy boots on my windowsill, and doing his best to make the place smell like his nasty cologne and cigars and stale beer.

I dropped my suitcase on the bed. Home sweet home, I thought sarcastically.

Gabe's smell was almost worse than the nightmares about Mrs. Dodds, or the sound of that old fruit lady's shears snipping the yarn.

Almost.

But as soon as I thought that, my legs felt weak. I remembered Grover's look of panic-how he'd made me promise I wouldn't go home without him. A sudden chill rolled through me.

Then I heard my mom's voice. "Cori?"

She opened the bedroom door, and my fears melted.

My mother can make me feel good just by walking into the room. She's just awesome that way (like me, duh!). Her eyes sparkle and change color in the light. Her smile is as warm as a quilt. She's got a few gray streaks mixed in with her long brown silky hair, but I never think of her as old. When she looks at me, it's like she's seeing all the good things about me, none of the bad. I've never heard her raise her voice or say an unkind word to anyone, not even me or Gabe. And that's pretty hard, mind you.

"Cori!" She said as she hugged me tightly. "I can't believe it! You've grown since Christmas! Oh, my! What a beautiful young woman you've become!" She squealed at the last part. Sometimes she's more of a child than I am.

Her red-white-and-blue Sweet on America uniform smelled like the best things in the world: chocolate, licorice, and all the other stuff she sold at the candy shop in Grand Central. Yammy! She'd brought me a huge bag of "free samples, " the way she always did when I came home.

We sat together on the edge of the bed. While I attacked the blueberry sour strings, she ran her hand through my long wavy black hair and demanded to know everything I hadn't put in my letters. She didn't mention anything about my getting expelled. She didn't seem to care about that. But was I okay? Was her little girl doing all right?

I told her she was smothering me a lot and ruining my tough and troublemaker image , and to lay off and all that, but secretly, I was really, really glad to see her.

From the other room, Gabe yelled, "Hey, Sally-how about some bean dip, huh?"

I gritted my teeth. He really _was_ asking to be pranked.

 **You should.**

 _I know and I will. Maybe a bath? I don't think he has had one in what?- a year or something? Bring some flowers in his room? Replace bear with apple juice? Put gum in his shoes? Steal his poker cards?_

 **All of them together.**

 _I totally agree with you. . . I mean me!_

My mom is the nicest lady in the world. She should've been married to a millionaire, not to some jerk like Gabe.

For her sake, I tried to sound upbeat about my last days at Yancy Academy. I told her I wasn't too down about the expulsion. I'd lasted almost the whole year this time. I'd made some new friends. I'd done pretty well in Latin. And honestly, the fights hadn't been as bad as the headmaster said. He was overreacting just because of some harmless pranks! He doesn't know what fun is! I liked Yancy Academy. I really did. I put such a good spin on the year, I almost convinced myself. I started choking up, thinking about Grover and Mr. Brunner. Even Nancy Bobofit suddenly didn't seem so bad.

Until that trip to the museum ...

"What?" my mom asked. Her eyes tugged at my con-science, trying to pull out the secrets. "Did something scare you?"

 _Nah, just my pre-algebra teacher turned into a monster, nothing too big. . ._

"No, Mom. "

I felt bad lying. I wanted to tell her about Mrs. Dodds and the three old ladies with the yarn, but I thought it would sound stupid. I had a feeling that she would believe me no matter what, but if did tell her I was afraid that nothing would be the same afterwards.

She pursed her lips. She knew I was holding back, but she didn't push me.

"I have a surprise for you, " she said. "We're going to the beach. "

My eyes widened. "Montauk?"

"Three nights-same cabin. "

"When?"

She smiled. "As soon as I get changed. "

I couldn't believe it. My mom and I hadn't been to Montauk the last two summers, because Gabe said there wasn't enough money. Git, I thought.

Gabe appeared in the doorway and growled, "Bean dip, Sally? Didn't you hear me?"

I wanted to punch him, but I met my mom's eyes and I understood she was offering me a deal: be nice to Gabe for a little while. Just until she was ready to leave for Montauk. Then we would get out of here. I clenched my fists.

"I was on my way, honey, " she told Gabe. "We were just talking about the trip. "

Gabe's eyes got small. "The trip? You mean you were serious about that?"

"I knew it, " I muttered. "He won't let us go. "

"Of course he will, " my mom said evenly. "Your step-father is just worried about money. That's all. Besides, " she added, "Gabriel won't have to settle for bean dip. I'll make him enough seven-layer dip for the whole weekend. Guacamole. Sour cream. The works. " My mom surely knows what to do.

Gabe softened a bit. "So this money for your trip ... It comes out of your clothes budget, right?"

"Yes, honey, " my mother said.

"And you won't take my car anywhere but there and back. "

"We'll be very careful. "

Gabe scratched his double chin. "Maybe if you hurry with that seven-layer dip ... And maybe if the kid apologizes for interrupting my poker game. "

Maybe if I kick you in your soft spot, I thought. And make you sing soprano for a week. We could get some money from that.

But my mom's eyes warned me not to make him mad.

Why did she put up with this guy? I wanted to scream. Why did she care what he thought?

"I'm sorry, " I muttered. "I'm really sorry I interrupted your incredibly important poker game. Please go back to it right now. Don't lose any more time with us. " _And I really hope you lose,_ I added silently.

Gabe's eyes narrowed. His tiny brain was probably trying to detect sarcasm in my statement. Idiot!

"Yeah, whatever, " he decided. Okay, now that was a new record. I knew he had the IQ of a Jellyfish (his brain is probably made of jelly), but this was a whole new level.

He went back to his game.

"Thank you, Cori, " my mom said. "Once we get to Montauk, we'll talk more about... Whatever you've forgotten to tell me, okay?"

For a moment, I thought I saw anxiety in her eyes-the same fear I'd seen in Grover during the bus ride-as if my mom too felt an odd chill in the air.

But then her smile returned, and I figured I must have been mistaken. She ruffled my hair ( an old habit of hers which I said that I hated, but it made me feel good. Don't know why, though) and went to make Gabe his seven-layer dip.

An hour later we were ready to leave.

Gabe took a break from his _really_ important poker game long enough to watch me lug my mom's bags to the car. He kept griping and groaning about losing her cooking-and more important, his '78 Camaro-for the whole weekend.

"Not a scratch on this car, brainy, " he warned me as I loaded the last bag. "Not one little scratch. "

Like I'd be the one driving. I was twelve. But that didn't matter to Gabe. If a seagull so much as pooped on his paint job, he'd find a way to blame me. It has happened before.

Watching him lumber back toward the apartment building, I got so mad I did something I can't explain. As Gabe reached the doorway, I made the hand gesture I'd seen Grover make on the bus, a sort of warding-off-evil gesture, a clawed hand over my heart, then a shoving movement toward Gabe. The screen door slammed shut so hard it whacked him in the butt and sent him flying up the stair-case as if he'd been shot from a cannon. Maybe it was just the wind, or some freak accident with the hinges, but I didn't stay long enough to find out. I was too busy laughing and sweeping tears from my eyes.

I got in the Camaro and told my mom to step on it.

Our rental cabin was on the south shore, way out at the tip of Long Island. It was a little pastel box with faded curtains, half sunken into the dunes. There was always sand in the sheets and spiders in the cabinets, and most of the time the sea was too cold to swim in.

I loved the place.

We'd been going there since I was a baby. My mom had been going even longer. She never exactly said, but I knew why the beach was special to her. It was the place where she'd met my dad. I always felt a connection to the sea. Maybe it was because my mom had told me that my dad had been a sailor, or was it because of the warmness it gave me, I didn't know. I just felt like I could do everything there.

As we got closer to Montauk, she seemed to grow younger, years of worry and work disappearing from her face. Her eyes turned the color of the sea (just like me).

We got there at sunset, opened all the cabin's windows, and went through our usual cleaning routine. We walked on the beach, fed blue corn chips to the seagulls, and munched on blue jelly beans, blue saltwater taffy, and all the other free samples my mom had brought from work.

I guess I should explain the blue food.

You see, when I was a little, Gabe told my mom that blue food didn't exist. They got into a pretty nasty fight, and since then mom started making everything blue. She baked blue birthday cakes. She mixed blueberry smoothies. She bought blue-corn tortilla chips and brought home blue candy from the shop. This-along with keeping her maiden name, Jackson, rather than calling herself Mrs. Ugliano ( a really disgusting surname if you ask me)-was proof that she wasn't totally suckered by Gabe. She did have a rebellious streak, like me, even if I chose to show it more.

When it got dark, we made a fire. We roasted hot dogs and marshmallows. Mom told me stories about when she was a kid, back before her parents died in the plane crash. She told me about the books she wanted to write someday, when she had enough money to quit the candy shop.

Eventually, I got up the nerve to ask about what was always on my mind whenever we came to Montauk-my father. Mom's eyes went all misty. I figured she would tell me the same things she always did, but I never got tired of hearing them.

"He was kind, Cori, " she said. "Tall, handsome, and powerful. But gentle, too. You have his black hair, you know, and his green eyes. "

Mom fished a blue jelly bean out of her candy bag. "I wish he could see you, Cori. He would be so proud. "

I snorted loudly. Proud of what? A sarcastic, dyslexic, hyperactive girl with a C+ report card, kicked out of school for the sixth time in six years, Nr. 1 troublemaker.

"How old was I?" I asked. "I mean ... When he left?"

She watched the flames. "He was only with me for one summer, Cori. Right here at this beach. This cabin. "

"But... He knew me as a baby. "

"No, honey. He knew I was expecting a baby, but he never saw you. He had to leave before you were born. He also knew that you were going to be a girl. He once told me that he had always wanted to have a daughter, a little princess. "

I tried to square that with the fact that I seemed to remember ... Something about my father. A warm glow. A smile.

I had always assumed he knew me as a baby. My mom had never said it outright, but still, I'd felt it must be true. Now, to be told that he'd never even seen me . . .

I felt angry at my father. Maybe it was stupid, but I resented him for going on that ocean voyage, for not having the guts to marry my mom. He'd left us, and now we were stuck with Smelly Gabe.

"Are you going to send me away again?" I asked her. "To another boarding school?"

She pulled a marshmallow from the fire.

"I don't know, honey. " Her voice was heavy. "I think ... I think we'll have to do something. "

"Because you don't want me around?" I regretted the words as soon as they were out.

My mom's eyes welled with tears. She took my hand, squeezed it tight. "Oh, Cori, no. I-I have to, honey. For your own good. I have to send you away. "

Her words reminded me of what Mr. Brunner had said-that it was best for me to leave Yancy.

"Because I'm not normal, " I said.

"You say it like that is a bad thing, honey."

"Because it is, I'm not normal mom," My anger seemed to be getting the best of me. I was mad. Mad at my father that let us alone, mad at Mr. Brunner and Grover that were talking behind my back, mad at _myself, "_ I'm a freak!"

"I thought Yancy Academy would be far enough away. I thought you'd finally be safe. "

"Safe from what?" I asked, my anger replaced by fear. Was she talking about Mrs. Dodds?

She met my eyes, and a flood of memories came back to me-all the weird, scary things that had ever happened to me, some of which I'd tried to forget.

During third grade, a man in a black trench coat had stalked me on the playground. When the teachers threatened to call the police, he went away growling, but no one believed me when I told them that under his broad-brimmed hat, the man only had one eye, right in the middle of his head.

Before that-a really early memory. I was in preschool, and a teacher accidentally put me down for a nap in a cot that a snake had slithered into. My mom screamed when she came to pick me up and found me playing with a limp, scaly rope I'd somehow managed to strangle to death with my meaty toddler hands.

There were more, but these were the ones I remembered the most.

I knew I should tell my mom about the old ladies at the fruit stand, and Mrs. Dodds at the art museum, about my weird hallucination that I had sliced my math teacher into dust with a sword. But I couldn't make myself tell her. I had a strange feeling the news would end our trip to Montauk, and I didn't want that. I wanted to stay here with mom forever, to forget everything bad that had happened to me and be happy.

"I've tried to keep you as close to me as I could, " my mom said. "They told me that was a mistake. But there's only one other option, Cori-the place your father wanted to send you. And I just... I just can't stand to do it. "

"My father wanted me to go to a special school?"

"Not a school, " she said softly. "A summer camp. "

My head was spinning. Why would my dad-who hadn't even stayed around long enough to see me born- talk to my mom about a summer camp? And if it was so important, why hadn't she ever mentioned it before?

"I'm sorry, Cori, " she said, seeing the look in my eyes. "But I can't talk about it. I-I couldn't send you to that place. It might mean saying good-bye to you for good. "

"For good? But if it's only a summer camp ... "

She turned toward the fire, and I knew from her expression that if I asked her any more questions she would start to cry.

* * *

 _That night I had a vivid dream._

 _It was storming on the beach, and two beautiful animals, a white beautiful horse and a golden eagle, were trying to kill each other at the edge of the surf. The eagle swooped down and slashed the horse's muzzle with its huge talons. The horse reared up and kicked at the eagles wings. As they fought, the ground rumbled, and a monstrous voice chuck-led somewhere beneath the earth, goading the animals to fight harder._

 _I ran toward them, knowing I had to stop them from killing each other, but I was running in slow motion. I knew I would be too late. I saw the eagle dive down, its beak aimed at the horse's neck. I screamed, No!_

* * *

I woke with a start.

Outside, it really was storming, the kind of storm that cracks trees and blows down houses. There was no horse or eagle on the beach, just lightning making false daylight, and twenty-foot waves pounding the dunes like artillery. To say it was a disaster was an understatement.

With the next thunderclap, my mom woke. She sat up, eyes wide, and said, "Hurricane. "

I knew that was crazy. Long Island never sees hurricanes this early in the summer. But the ocean seemed to have forgotten. Over the roar of the wind, I heard a distant bellow, an angry, tortured sound that made my hair stand on end.

Then a much closer noise, like mallets in the sand. A desperate voice-someone yelling, pounding on our cabin door.

My mother sprang out of bed in her nightgown and threw open the lock.

Grover stood framed in the doorway against a backdrop of pouring rain. But he wasn't... He wasn't exactly Grover.

"Searching all night, " he gasped. "What were you thinking?"

My mother looked at me in terror-not scared of Grover, but of why he'd come.

"Cori, " she said, shouting to be heard over the rain. "What happened at school? What didn't you tell me?"

I was frozen, looking at Grover. I couldn't understand what I was seeing.

"O Zeu kai alloi theoi!" he yelled. "It's right behind me! Didn't you tell her?"

I was too shocked to register that he'd just cursed in Ancient Greek, and I'd understood him perfectly. I was too shocked to wonder how Grover had gotten here by himself in the middle of the night. Because Grover didn't have his pants on-and where his legs should be ... Where his legs should be ...

My mom looked at me sternly and talked in a tone she'd never used before: "Cordelia Melody Jackson, tell me now!"

I winced at my full name. I stammered something about the old ladies at the fruit stand, and Mrs. Dodds, and my mom stared at me, her face deathly pale in the flashes of lightning.

She grabbed her purse, tossed me my rain jacket, and said, "Get to the car. Both of you. Go!"

Grover ran for the Camaro-but he wasn't running, exactly. He was trotting, shaking his shaggy hindquarters, and suddenly his story about a muscular disorder in his legs made sense to me. I understood how he could run so fast and still limp when he walked.

Because where his feet should be, there were no feet. There were cloven hooves.

I nearly fainted.

 **Dramatic much?**

 _Not now!_

* * *

 **Sooo, that was it for today! I hope I'll have the other chapter ready by tomorrow, BUT I'm not making any promises.**

 **Don't forget to review about Will, it's really important!**

 **~ Mel ~**


	4. Mr Bull surely likes playing with me

**Hey, wrote another chapter today so I hope you're happy ;)**

 **Here Will makes an appearance and I'm so happy! *squeals and starts fangirling***

 **Okay, I'm not bothering you anymore. Enjoy the chapie!**

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 **A little girl around 9 years old with raven black hair and eyes the color of the ocean was jumping around her mom.**

 **"** **Mommy, mommy wake up!"**

 **No response.**

 **She thought for a while and then a rather devilish smile took upon her face. She climbed and positioned herself on the bad and screamed in the top of her lungs, while tickling her mother. "Mommy, wakie, wakie!" she giggled.**

 **Sally opened her eyes and smiled softly. "Morning dear. Why did you wake up early today?"**

 **"** **It's your birthday," young Cori said bluntly. "You should party."**

 **"** **Honey, we don't have the money to throw a party." It broke her heart to decline her child, but it was for the best: they really did not have the money.**

 **She seemed a bit low on spirits but then smiled again, "You know, someone very wise once told me that to party doesn't mean you have to throw a big dinner and invite friends, it simply means that you have to have some good time with the people you love."**

 **"** **Oh, and who told you that?"**

 **"** **Bob," she giggled.**

 **"** **Well, if he's so wise as you put it then what does he suggest we do this fine Saturday?"**

 **Cori turned her head towards her fish and then nodded, satisfied with the answer. "At the park."**

 **"** **At the park we go."**

 **"** **But not before my blue waffles!"**

 **"** **Of course, dear"**

 **"** **Good! Nobody , messes with my blue waffles."**

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 **Chapter 4. Is that a Bull?**

We tore through the night along dark country roads. Wind slammed against the Camaro. Rain lashed the wind-shield. I didn't know how my mom could see anything, but she kept her foot on the gas.

Every time there was a flash of lightning, I looked at Grover sitting next to me in the backseat and I wondered if I'd gone insane, or if he was wearing some kind of shag-carpet pants. But, no, the smell was one I remembered from kindergarten field trips to the petting zoo- lanolin, like from wool. The smell of a wet barnyard animal. Mind you, it wasn't a really nice smell.

Okay, I certainly must've eaten too much blue jelly beans. Yeah, that's it, too much jelly beans.

All I could think to say was, "So, you and my mom... Know each other?"

Graver's eyes flitted to the rearview mirror, though there were no cars behind us. "Not exactly, " he said. "I mean, we've never met in person. But she knew I was watching you. "

"Watching me?" That was a creepy thought.

"Keeping tabs on you. Making sure you were okay. But I wasn't faking being your friend, " he added hastily. "I am your friend. "

 _Yeah, sure._

"What are you?" It came a bit harsh, but I didn't care at the moment. Now my mom was too, part of this 'group' of people that thought that I was in some kind of danger and needed to protect me. Peachy, I thought. Could my life get any better?

 **If you stop being sarcastic…..**

 _Not now please, I'm trying to make some sense here._

"That doesn't matter right now. "

"It doesn't matter? From the waist down, my best friend is some kind of a hybrid bionic donkey-"

Grover let out a sharp, throaty "Blaa-ha-ha!"

I'd heard him make that sound before, but I'd always assumed it was a nervous laugh. Now I realized it was more of an irritated bleat.

"Goat!" he cried.

"What? I'm going insane here and you think of goats?"

"I'm a goat from the waist down. "

Who cares? I thought. "You just said it didn't matter. "

"Blaa-ha-ha! There are satyrs who would trample you underhoof for such an insult!"

"Whoa. Wait. Satyrs. You mean like ... Mr. Brunner's myths?"

"Were those old ladies at the fruit stand a myth, Cori? Was Mrs. Dodds a myth?"

"So now Mrs. Dodd's real, huh?"

"Of course."

"Then why-"

"The less you knew, the fewer monsters you'd attract, " Grover said, like that should be perfectly obvious. "We put Mist over the humans' eyes. We hoped you'd think the Kindly One was a hallucination. But it was no good. You started to realize who you are. "

"Ah, yes! Of course! You must mean that I'm a freak. Why, thank you very much for your concern Grover, but I already know that!" I snapped sarcastically. I was angry and the two of them were just making me more with all their secrets and stuff.

The weird bellowing noise rose up again somewhere behind us, closer than before. Whatever was chasing us was still on our trail.

"Cori, " my mom said, "there's too much to explain and not enough time. We have to get you to safety. "

"Safety from what now? What's after me? "

"Oh, nobody much, " Grover said, obviously still miffed about the donkey comment. "Just the Lord of the Dead and a few of his blood-thirstiest minions. "

"Why, certainly, you're very creative Grover. And very funny indeed." I said as I faked a laugh.

My mom made a hard left. We swerved onto a narrower road, racing past darkened farmhouses and wooded hills and PICK YOUR OWN STRAWBERRIES signs on white picket fences.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"The summer camp I told you about. " My mother's voice was tight; she was trying for my sake not to be scared. "The place your father wanted to send you. "

"The place you didn't want me to go. "

"Please, dear, " my mother begged. "This is hard enough. Try to understand. You're in danger. "

"Because some old ladies cut yarn. "

"Those weren't old ladies, " Grover said. "Those were the Fates. Do you know what it means-the fact they appeared in front of you? They only do that when you're about to ... When someone's about to die. "

"Whoa. So I'm about to die know, 'cuz you said 'you'. You know Grover, I think I was wrong for you. You really have a hell of an imagination."

"Really funny, Cori. You have a hell of a sense of humor!"

"See, now we're getting along. I just need you to tell me what's happening!"

She pulled the wheel hard to the right, and I got a glimpse of a figure she'd swerved to avoid-a dark fluttering shape now lost behind us in the storm.

"What was that?" I asked.

"We're almost there, " my mother said, ignoring my question. "Another mile. Please. Please. Please. "

I didn't know where there was, but I found myself leaning forward in the car, anticipating, wanting us to arrive.

Outside, nothing but rain and darkness-the kind of empty countryside you get way out on the tip of Long Island. I thought about Mrs. Dodds and the moment when she'd changed into the thing with pointed teeth and leathery wings. I know she'd meant to kill me, that was obvious, but why?

Then I thought about Mr. Brunner ... And the sword he had thrown me. Before I could ask Grover about that, the hair rose on the back of my neck. There was a blinding flash, a jaw-rattling boom!, and our car exploded.

I remember feeling weightless, like I was being crushed, fried, and hosed down all at the same time. Fascinating experience, really! You should try it one day.

 **Stop the sarcasm, you're making me sick!**

 _Shuuu! Away from my mind!_

 **I am your mind idiot!**

 _So, now you practically called yourself an idiot!_

 **Shut up!**

"Cori!" my mom shouted.

"I'm okay... . "

I tried to shake off the daze. I wasn't dead. The car hadn't really exploded. We'd swerved into a ditch. Our driver's-side doors were wedged in the mud. The roof had cracked open like an eggshell and rain was pouring in.

Lightning. That was the only explanation. We'd been blasted right off the road. Next to me in the backseat was a big motionless lump. "Grover!"

He was slumped over, blood trickling from the side of his mouth. I shook his furry hip, thinking, No! Despite being a bit angry at you at the moment, I still care about you! Even if you are half barnyard animal, you're my best friend and I don't want you to die!

Then he groaned "Food, " and I knew there was hope.

"Cori, " my mother said, "we have to ... " Her voice faltered.

I looked back. In a flash of lightning, through the mud-spattered rear windshield, I saw a figure lumbering toward us on the shoulder of the road. The sight of it made my skin crawl. It was a dark silhouette of a huge guy, like a football player. He seemed to be holding a blanket over his head. His top half was bulky and fuzzy. His upraised hands made it look like he had horns. _Charming!_ I thought sarcastically.

I swallowed hard. "Who is-"

"Cori, " my mother said, deadly serious. " Out of the car. Now"

My mother threw herself against the driver's-side door. It was jammed shut in the mud. I tried mine. Stuck too. I looked up desperately at the hole in the roof. It might've been an exit, but the edges were sizzling and smoking.

"Climb out the passenger's side!" my mother told me. "Cori-you have to run. Do you see that big tree?"

Another flash of lightning, and through the smoking hole in the roof I saw the tree she meant: a huge, White House Christmas tree-sized pine at the crest of the nearest hill.

"Yeah," I said weakly.

"That's the property line, " my mom said. "Get over that hill and you'll see a big farmhouse down in the valley. Run and don't look back. Yell for help. Don't stop until you reach the door. "

"Come on, then."

"What?" She asked obviously confused.

"Mom, you're coming too. I'm not leaving you here!"

"Food!" Grover moaned, a little louder.

The man with the blanket on his head kept coming toward us, making his grunting, snorting noises. As he got closer, I realized he couldn't be holding a blanket over his head, because his hands-huge meaty hands-were swinging at his sides. There was no blanket. Meaning the bulky, fuzzy mass that was too big to be his head ... Was his head. And the points that looked like horns ...

"He doesn't want us, " my mother told me. "He wants you. Besides, I can't cross the property line. "

"Mom, I said it once and I'm saying it again: I. Won't. Leave. You. Here. Now help me move Grover."

She looked at me surprised at first, but when she understood that I wouldn't change my mind, she came to help me.

Together, we draped Grover's arms over our shoulders and started stumbling uphill through wet waist- high grass.

Glancing back, I got my first clear look at the monster. He was seven feet tall, easy, his arms and legs like something from the cover of Muscle Man magazine-bulging biceps and triceps and a bunch of other 'ceps, all stuffed like baseballs undervein-webbed skin. He wore no clothes except under-wear-I mean, bright white Fruit of the Looms-which would've looked funny, except that the top half of his body was so scary. Coarse brown hair started at about his belly button and got thicker as it reached his shoulders.

His neck was a mass of muscle and fur leading up to his enormous head, which had a snout as long as my arm, snotty nostrils with a gleaming brass ring, cruel black eyes, and horns-enormous black-and- white horns with points you just couldn't get from an electric sharpener. Yep! Definitely charming!

I blinked the rain out of my eyes. "That's-"

"Pasiphae's son, " my mother said. "I wish I'd known how badly they want to kill you. "

"But he's the Min-"

"Don't say his name, " she warned. "Names have power. "

I made a mental note: Never, mention names unless absolutely necessary.

Wait a minute! When Grover said that the Lord of the Dead was after me, he couldn't have meant . . .

I glanced behind me again.

The bull-man hunched over our car, looking in the windows-or not looking, exactly. More like snuffling, nuzzling. I wasn't sure why he bothered, since we were only about fifty feet away.

"Food?" Grover moaned.

"I swear, Grover, you are going to be the death of me!"

"His sight and hearing are terrible, " mom said. "He goes by smell. But he'll figure out where we are soon enough. "

As if on cue, the bull-man bellowed in rage. He picked up Gabe's Camaro by the torn roof, the chassis creaking and groaning. He raised the car over his head and threw it down the road. It slammed into the wet asphalt and skidded in a shower of sparks for about half a mile before coming to a stop. The gas tank exploded.

Not a scratch, I remembered Gabe saying.

I smirked and grinned evilly at myself. Oops. I'm _so_ sorry.

"Cori, " my mom said. "When he sees us, he'll charge. Wait until the last second, then jump out of the way- directly sideways. He can't change directions very well once he's charging. Do you understand?"

"How do you know all this?"

"I've been worried about an attack for a long time. I should have expected this. I was selfish, keeping you near me. "

"Keeping me near you? But-"

Another bellow of rage, and the bull-man started tromping uphill.

He'd smelled us.

The pine tree was only a few more yards, but the hill was getting steeper and slicker, and Grover wasn't getting any lighter. Perfect! Just brilliant.

The bull-man closed in. Another few seconds and he'd be on top of us.

My mother must've been exhausted, but she shouldered Grover. "Go, Cori! Separate! Remember what I said. "

I didn't want to split up, but I had the feeling she was right-it was our only chance. I sprinted to the left, turned, and saw the creature bearing down on me. His black eyes glowed with hate. He reeked like rotten meat.

He lowered his head and charged, those razor-sharp horns aimed straight at my chest.

The fear in my stomach made me want to bolt, but that wouldn't work. I could never outrun this thing. So I held my ground, and at the last moment, I jumped to the side. Huh, that went rather well!

 **Don't stop! Run!**

 _Gee, thanks!_

The bull-man stormed past like a freight train, then bellowed with frustration and turned, but not toward me this time, toward my mother, who was setting Grover down in the grass.

We'd reached the crest of the hill. Down the other side I could see a valley, just as my mother had said, and the lights of a farmhouse glowing yellow through the rain. But that was half a mile away. We'd never make it.

The bull-man grunted, pawing the ground. He kept eyeing my mother, who was now retreating slowly downhill, back toward the road, trying to lead the monster away from Grover.

"Run, Cori!" she told me. "I can't go any farther. Run!"

But I just stood there, frozen in fear, as the monster charged her. She tried to sidestep, as she'd told me to do, but the monster had learned his lesson. His hand shot out and grabbed her by the neck as she tried to get away. He lifted her as she struggled, kicking and pummeling the air.

"Mom!"

She caught my eyes, managed to choke out one last word: "Go!"

Then, with an angry roar, the monster closed his fists around my mother's neck, and she dissolved before my eyes, melting into light, a shimmering golden form, as if she were a holographic projection. A blinding flash, and she was simply ... Gone.

"No! Mom, no!"

Anger replaced my fear. New found strength burned in my limbs-the same rush of energy I'd gotten when Mrs. Dodds grew talons.

"I'm going to kill him," I muttered threateningly.

 **Good!**

The bull-man bore down on Grover, who lay helpless in the grass. The monster hunched over, snuffling my best friend, as if he were about to lift Grover up and make him dissolve too.

I couldn't allow that.

I _wouldn't_ allow that.

I stripped off my red rain jacket.

"Hey!" I screamed, waving the jacket, running to one side of the monster. "Hey, stupid! Ground beef!"

"Raaaarrrrr!" The monster turned toward me, shaking his meaty fists.

I had an idea-a stupid idea, but better than no idea at all. I put my back to the big pine tree and waved my red jacket in front of the bull-man, thinking I'd jump out of the way at the last moment.

But it didn't happen like that.

The bull-man charged too fast, his arms out to grab me whichever way I tried to dodge.

Time slowed down.

My legs tensed. I couldn't jump sideways, so I leaped straight up, kicking off from the creature's head, using it as a springboard, turning in midair, and landing on his neck.

How did I do that? I didn't have time to figure it out. A millisecond later, the monster's head slammed into the tree and the impact nearly knocked my teeth out. Now _that_ wouldn't have been good.

The bull-man staggered around, trying to shake me. I locked my arms around his horns to keep from being thrown. Thunder and lightning were still going strong. The rain was in my eyes. The smell of rotten meat burned my nostrils.

The monster shook himself around and bucked like a rodeo bull. He should have just backed up into the tree and smashed me flat, but I was starting to realize that this thing had only one gear: forward.

Meanwhile, Grover started groaning in the grass. I wanted to yell at him to shut up, but the way I was getting tossed around, if I opened my mouth I'd bite my own tongue off.

"Food!" Grover moaned.

 _Was food all he could think of?_

The bull-man wheeled toward him, pawed the ground again, and got ready to charge. I thought about how he had squeezed the life out of my mother, made her disappear in a flash of light, and rage filled me like high-octane fuel. I got both hands around one horn and I pulled backward with all my might. The monster tensed, gave a surprised grunt, then-snap!

The bull-man screamed and flung me through the air. I landed flat on my back in the grass. My head smacked against a rock. When I sat up, my vision was blurry, but I had a horn in my hands, a ragged bone weapon the size of a knife.

Mr. Bull charged.

Without thinking, I rolled to one side and came up kneeling. As the monster barreled past, I drove the broken horn straight into his side, right up under his furry rib cage.

The bull-man roared in agony. He flailed, clawing at his chest, then began to disintegrate-not like my mother, in a flash of golden light, but like crumbling sand, blown away in chunks by the wind, the same way Mrs. Dodds had burst apart.

The monster was gone.

The rain had stopped. The storm still rumbled, but only in the distance. I smelled like livestock and my knees were shaking. My head felt like it was splitting open. I was weak and trembling with grief I'd just seen my mother vanish. I wanted to lie down and be angry for my mother's death, but there was Grover, needing my help, so I managed to haul him up and stagger down into the valley, toward the lights of the farm-house. I was crying, calling for my mother, but I held on to Grover-I wasn't going to let him go.

I remembered collapsing on a wooden porch, looking up at a ceiling fan circling above me, moths flying around a yellow light, and the stern faces of a familiar-looking bearded man, a pretty girl, her blond hair curled like a princess's. They both looked down at me, and the girl said, "She's the one. She must be. "

The last thing I saw was a handsome boy, an inch or so taller than me, with curly blonde hair, sky blue eyes and tanned skin, lifting me up and carrying me bridal style.

 **Soooo, that was all for today! The poll for Will is still opened.**

 **I'll make sure to update tomorrow.**

 **Hope you liked this chapter,**

 **~ Mel ~**


	5. Camp Half-Blood here I come

**Here I am again and surprise! Today I have written my longest chapter so far 6509 wards without the ANs.**

 **You will also see more of Will and Annabeth. I've also decided that Hestia will play a motherly figure in Cori's life.**

 **Thank you:** for reviews: dogbiscuit1967, MojoBear, Yoko Nee-San, Izi Wilson and many Guests !

for favorite Delta General 42, Izi Wilson, Libb23, Neo gen x, PerfectlyStrange, SakuHanaMusic, blondmage, bluechocolatemilk and savisnire

for following: 917brat, Libb23, Marcouhl, MojoBear, MusicalTira, Neo gen x, Yoko Nee-San, blondmage, bookwormlover4ever, dogbiscuit1967, dragonfire196, gisejaz, latinagirl-reader2010 and vxgt!

 **Read the AN in the end. It's important!**

* * *

 **Chapter 5. Camp Half-Blood and the Bathroom**

I had weird dreams full of barnyard animals. Most of them wanted to kill me. The rest wanted food. Then there came an older version of Grover eating aluminum cans mumbling something about healthy food and cereals. You can imagine that my sleep wasn't so . . _.comfortable._ This not counting all the dumb conversations with _"The_ _Voice of Reason."_ To me it sounds more like _"The Annoying Voice."_

I must've woken up several times, but what I heard and saw made no sense, so I just passed out again. I remember lying in a soft bed, being spoon-fed something that tasted like buttered popcorn, only it was pudding. The handsome boy with curly blond hair hovered over me, smirking as he scraped drips off my chin with the spoon.

When he saw my eyes open, he said, "Shh, it's going to be alright. We got you. Now sleep, doctor orders."

I saw him smirking again and then, he even had the nerve to wink at me. Unfortunately for me, I didn't have enough energy to respond. No problem, he'll have a _proper_ conversation with me when I'm up. Carrying me around like a princess and winking at me! Who does he think he is?

 **Your prince charming!**

 _Shut up!_

Somebody knocked on the door, and the boy quickly filled my mouth with pudding.

The next time I woke up, the boy was gone.

A husky blond dude, like a surfer, stood in the corner of the bedroom keeping watch over me. He had blue eyes- at least a dozen of them-on his cheeks, his forehead, the backs of his hands.

When I finally came around for good, there was nothing weird about my surroundings, except that they were nicer than I was used to. I was sitting in a deck chair on a huge porch, gazing across a meadow at green hills in the distance. The breeze smelled like strawberries. There was a blanket over my legs, a pillow behind my neck. All that was great, but my mouth felt like a scorpion had been using it for a nest. My tongue was dry and nasty and every one of my teeth hurt. I think there was also a problem with my leg, because it was hurting as hell.

On the table next to me was a tall drink. It looked like iced apple juice, with a green straw and a paper parasol stuck through a maraschino cherry.

My hand was so weak I almost dropped the glass once I got my fingers around it.

"Careful, " a familiar voice said.

Grover was leaning against the porch railing, looking like he hadn't slept in a week. Under one arm, he cradled a shoe box. He was wearing blue jeans, Converse hi-tops and a bright orange T-shirt that said CAMP HALF-BLOOD. Just plain old Grover, Not the goat boy.

So maybe I'd had a nightmare. Maybe my mom was okay. We were still on vacation, and we'd stopped here at this big house for some reason. But, somewhere in the back of my mind, _my voice of reason_ was telling me that it wasn't just a dream. I didn't want to believe it. I wanted my mom.

"You saved my life, " Grover said. "I... Well, the least I could do ... I went back to the hill. I thought you might want this. "

Reverently, he placed the shoe box in my lap.

Inside was a black-and-white bull's horn, the base jagged from being broken off, the tip splattered with dried blood. It hadn't been a nightmare.

"The Minotaur, " I said.

"Urn, Cori , it isn't a good idea-"

"That's what they call him in the Greek myths, isn't it?" I demanded. "The Minotaur. Half man, half bull. The one who killed. . . my mom "

He looked down.

I stared across the meadow. There were groves of trees, a winding stream, acres of strawberries spread out under the blue sky. The valley was surrounded by rolling hills, and the tallest one, directly in front of us, was the one with the huge pine tree on top. Even that looked beautiful in the sunlight.

My mother was gone. The whole world should be black and cold. Nothing should look beautiful.

"I'm sorry, " Grover sniffled. "I'm a failure. I'm-I'm the worst satyr in the world. "

He moaned, stomping his foot so hard it came off. I mean, the Converse hi-top came off. The inside was filled with Styrofoam, except for a hoof-shaped hole.

"Oh, Styx!" he mumbled.

Thunder rolled across the clear sky.

As he struggled to get his hoof back in the fake foot, I thought, Well, that settles it.

Grover was a satyr. I was ready to bet that if I shaved his curly brown hair, I'd find tiny horns on his head. But I was too miserable to care that satyrs existed, or even minotaurs. All that meant was my mom really had been squeezed into nothingness, dissolved into yellow light.

I was alone. An orphan. I would have to live with ... Smelly Gabe? No. That would never happen. I would live on the streets first. Steal some money, rob a bank, anything.

I would pretend I was seventeen and join the army. I'd do something.

Grover was still sniffling. The poor kid-poor goat, satyr, whatever-looked as if he expected to be hit.

I said, "It wasn't your fault. "

"Yes, it was. I was supposed to protect you. "

"Did my mother ask you to protect me?"

"No. But that's my job. I'm a keeper. At least... I was. "

"But why ... " I suddenly felt dizzy, my vision swimming.

"Don't strain yourself, " Grover said. "Here. " He helped me hold my glass and put the straw to my lips.

I recoiled at the taste, because I was expecting apple juice. It wasn't that at all. It was chocolate-chip cookies. Liquid cookies. And not just any cookies-my mom's homemade blue chocolate-chip cookies, buttery and hot, with the chips still melting. Drinking it, my whole body felt warm and good, full of energy. My grief didn't go away, but I felt as if my mom had just brushed her hand against my cheek, given me a cookie the way she used to when I was small, and told me everything was going to be okay.

Before I knew it, I'd drained the glass. I stared into it, sure I'd just had a warm drink, but the ice cubes hadn't even melted.

"Was it good?" Grover asked.

I nodded.

"What did it taste like?" He sounded so wistful, I felt guilty.

"Sorry, " I said. "I should've let you taste. "

His eyes got wide. "No! That's not what I meant. I just... Wondered. "

"Chocolate-chip cookies, " I said. "My mom's. Home-made. "

He sighed. "And how do you feel?"

"Like I could throw Nancy Bobofit a hundred yards. And survive one of Mr. Brunner's tournament days." I said just to ease the tension between us.

"That's good, " he said. "That's good. I don't think you could risk drinking any more of that stuff"

"What do you mean?"

He took the empty glass from me gingerly, as if it were dynamite, and set it back on the table. "Come on. Chiron and Mr. D are waiting. "

The porch wrapped all the way around the farmhouse.

My legs felt wobbly, trying to walk that far. Grover offered to carry the Minotaur horn, but I held on to it. I'd paid for that souvenir the hard way. I wasn't going to let it go.

As we came around the opposite end of the house, I caught my breath.

We must've been on the north shore of Long Island, because on this side of the house, the valley marched all the way up to the water, which glittered about a mile in the distance. Between here and there, I simply couldn't process everything I was seeing. The landscape was dotted with buildings that looked like ancient Greek architecture-an open-air pavilion, an amphitheater, a circular arena-except that they all looked brand new, their white marble columns sparkling in the sun. In a nearby sandpit, a dozen high school-age kids and satyrs played volleyball. Canoes glided across a small lake. Kids in bright orange T-shirts like Grover's were chasing each other around a cluster of cabins nestled in the woods. Some shot targets at an archery range. Others rode horses down a wooded trail, and, unless I was hallucinating, some of their horses had wings. What were they called? Pegusas?- no, Pegasus.

Down at the end of the porch, two men sat across from each other at a card table. The blond-haired boy who'd spoon-fed me popcorn-flavored pudding and the pretty girl that was there the night I arrived here were leaning casually on the porch rail next to them.

The man facing me was small, but porky. He had a red nose, big watery eyes, and curly hair so black it was almost purple. He looked like those paintings of baby angels- what do you call them, hubbubs? No, cherubs. That's it. He looked like a cherub who'd turned middle-aged in a trailer park. He wore a tiger- pattern Hawaiian shirt, and he would've fit right in at one of Gabe's poker parties, except I got the feeling this guy could've out-gambled even my step-father. If that man was a stranger to alcohol, I was a satyr. The only problem was that he radiated power, making me feel like a bug.

"That's Mr. D, " Grover murmured to me. "He's the camp director. Be polite. The boy, that's Will Solace. He's just a camper, but he's been here for a long time. The girl next to him is Annabeth Chase. And you already know Chiron... . "

He pointed at the guy whose back was to me.

First, I realized he was sitting in the wheelchair. Then I recognized the tweed jacket, the thinning brown hair, the scraggly beard.

"Mr. Brunner- Chiron, who?" to say I was confused was an understatement.

The Latin teacher turned and smiled at me. His eyes had that mischievous glint they sometimes got in class when he pulled a pop quiz and made all the multiple choice answers B.

"Ah, good, Cori, " he said. "Now we have four for pinochle. "

He offered me a chair to the right of Mr. D, who looked at me with bloodshot eyes and heaved a great sigh. "Oh, I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now, don't expect me to be glad to see you. "

I just stared at him for a good ten seconds and then blinked. "Yeah, thanks for the warm welcome. Glad to see you too."

"Chiron, I thought you had taught the girl manners." He glared at me and I glared back.

"Forgive her for now, she's just confused."

"You bet," I said in a cold tone.

He ignored me.

"So, Cori, tell me how are you feeling?"

"Brilliant!" I said sarcastically. "Oh, and mind telling me , is your name Brunner or is it Chiron now?"

"I'm afraid Brunner was a pseudonym. You may call me Chiron."

"Like _the_ Chiron? _The_ Trainer of Heroes?" I asked.

And then he did rise from his wheelchair. But there was something odd about the way he did it. His blanket fell away from his legs, but the legs didn't move. His waist kept getting longer, rising above his belt. At first, I thought he was wearing very long, white velvet underwear, but as he kept rising out of the chair, taller than any man, I realized that the velvet underwear wasn't underwear; it was the front of an animal, muscle and sinew under coarse white fur. And the wheelchair wasn't a chair. It was some kind of container, an enormous box on wheels, and it must've been magic, because there's no way it could've held all of him. A leg came out, long and knobby-kneed, with a huge polished hoof. Then another front leg, then hindquarters, and then the box was empty, nothing but a metal shell with a couple of fake human legs attached.

I stared at the horse who had just sprung from the wheelchair: a huge white stallion. But where its neck should be was the upper body of my Latin teacher, smoothly grafted to the horse's trunk.

"What a relief, " the centaur said. "I'd been cooped up in there so long, my fetlocks had fallen asleep. "

"You're a centaur. . ."

He ignored me " I must say, Cori, I'm glad to see you alive. It's been a long time since I've made a house call to a potential camper. I'd hate to think I've wasted my time. "

"House call?"

"My year at Yancy Academy, to instruct you. We have satyrs at most schools, of course, keeping a lookout. But Grover alerted me as soon as he met you. He sensed you were something special, so I decided to come upstate. I convinced the other Latin teacher to ... Ah, take a leave of absence. "

I tried to remember the beginning of the school year. It seemed like so long ago, but I did have a fuzzy memory of there being another Latin teacher my first week at Yancy. Then, without explanation, he had disappeared and Mr. Brunner had taken the class.

"You came to Yancy just to teach me?" I asked surprised.

Chiron nodded. "Honestly, I wasn't sure about you at first. We contacted your mother, let her know we were keeping an eye on you in case you were ready for Camp Half-Blood. But you still had so much to learn. Nevertheless, you made it here alive, and that's always the first test. "

"Grover, " Mr. D said impatiently, "are you playing or not?"

"Yes, sir!" Grover trembled as he took the fourth chair, though I didn't know why he should be so afraid of a pudgy little man in a tiger-print Hawaiian shirt.

"You do know how to play pinochle?" Mr. D eyed me suspiciously.

"Yes," I said.

"Yes, sir," he corrected me.

"Sir, " I repeated. I was liking the camp director less and less.

"Why am I here, what is this place?"

"Cori, " he said. "Did your mother tell you nothing?'

"She said ... " I remembered her sad eyes, looking out over the sea. "She told me she was afraid to send me here, even though my father had wanted her to. She said that once I was here, I probably couldn't leave. She wanted to keep me close to her. "

"I'm afraid there's too much to tell, " Chiron said. "I'm afraid our usual orientation film won't be sufficient. "

"Orientation film?" I asked.

"No, " Chiron decided. "Well, Cori. You know your friend Grover is a satyr. You know"-he pointed to the horn in the shoe box-"that you have killed the Minotaur. No small feat, either. What you may not know is that great powers are at work in your life. Gods-the forces you call the Greek gods-are very much alive. "

I slowly nodded. After defeating the minotaur, I could believe in many things- then, why not Greek Gods?

"Good," he said. "Now from what you've learned from me- do you remember how the offspring of a god and mortal was called?"

"A demigod," as soon as I said it, it all started to make sense. The camp- _this camp_ was called Camp Half-Blood, half-blood was another name for demigod. "No-no. . . " I could believe in _many things_ , not everything. Believing that gods were real and that you're a half one, are two different things! "Me? A demigod? Half god? Forget it! Where's the hidden camera? You must be kidding me!" I exclaimed.

"I am afraid not. You are a demigod, and a powerful one indeed. Why do you think I came to Yancy?" he stopped for a bit, but then continued. "Believe it or not, you are a demigoddess and can't do anything about it."

"But I. . ." I thought about al the starnge things that have happened to me during my life- the snakes I killed when I was a baby, the man with one eye I saw when I was in kindergarten, the water from the fountain grabbing Nancy (she deserved that one), and the two monster attacks I had. "I. . . believe you."

He looked at me obviously pleased, "Well, I knew that you were _and_ still are one of my brightest students." He smiled.

"Mr. D, " Grover asked timidly, "if you're not going to eat it, could I have your Diet Coke can?"

"Ah, yes, take it," he said waving his hand dismissingly.

He then waved his hand and a goblet appeared on the table, as if the sunlight had bent, momentarily, and woven the air into glass. The goblet filled itself with red wine.

My jaw dropped, but Chiron hardly looked up.

"Mr. D, " he warned, "your restrictions. "

Mr. D looked at the wine and feigned surprise.

"Dear me. " He looked at the sky and yelled, "Old habits! Sorry!"

More thunder.

Mr. D waved his hand again, and the wineglass changed into a fresh can of Diet Coke. He sighed unhappily, popped the top of the soda, and went back to his card game.

Chiron winked at me. "Mr. D offended his father a while back, took a fancy to a wood nymph who had been declared off-limits. "

"Yes, " Mr. D confessed. "Father loves to punish me. The first time, Prohibition. Ghastly! Absolutely horrid ten years! The second time-well, she really was pretty, and I couldn't stay away-the second time, he sent me here. Half-Blood Hill. Summer camp for brats like you. 'Be a better influence, ' he told me. 'Work with youths rather than tearing them down. ' Ha. ' Absolutely unfair. "

Mr. D sounded about six years old, like a pouting little kid.

It hit me. A wood nymph, Mr. D's father, thunder, wine, D,D,D. . . just like. . .

"You're Dionysus," I blurted. "God of Wine."

"I see," his gaze landed on me and had a serious expression stamped. "maybe you're not as ignorant as I first thought."

Chiron made some other explanations about Mt. Olympus being in America, on the 600th floor on the Empire State building, the gods moving with the heart of the west and monsters reforming constantly. I only nodded. What else could I do? I had just learned that my father wasn't dead as I actually thought- no, he was a god, _a god._ He had all this super-powers and stuff, but couldn't do anything for my mother. He left us with the Smelly Baboon.

"I'm tired, " Mr. D said. "I believe I'll take a nap before the sing-along tonight. But first, Grover, we need to talk, again, about your less-than-perfect performance on this assignment. "

Grover's face beaded with sweat. "Y-yes, sir. "

"Oh," said Chiron. "I almost forgot, Cori this is Will," he said as he patted Will in the back. He and the other girl must've been quiet the whole time."This young man nursed you back to health. One of our best medics around." The boy-Will- smiled at me. I knew I said before that I would give him a _proper_ conversation with me _,_ but when I heard that he had been taking care of me- which was more than many people had ever done about me- I couldn' help but smile a bit."And this," he pointed at the girl next to him, " is Annabeth, one of the campers that have stayed here the longest. "

"Hello," I said and we shook hands.

"Will, would you mind to show Cori around, and Annabeth dear, take her stuff to cabin eleven, will you?"

"Of course Chiron," she said before sprinting off.

I saw Will walking out of the door, "Are you coming or not?"

"Yeah," I said as I grinned at him , "coming."

* * *

We passed the volleyball pit. Several of the campers nudged each other. One pointed to the minotaur horn I was carrying. Another said, "That's her. "

Most of the campers were older than me. Their satyr friends were bigger than Grover, all of them trotting around in orange CAMP HALF-BLOOD T-shirts, with nothing else to cover their bare shaggy hindquarters. I felt like they were expecting me to do a flip or something. I glared at all of them. I was really becoming brilliant with this glaring thing.

Will just gave the other campers a look as if saying 'Seriously?' and made me walk faster. I didn't complain.

It was in that moment, I realized that he was _really_ close to me. A faint blush covered my cheeks, but I tried to hide it and turned my head the other way. Seriously? I was Cori Jackson, a badass, I didn't blush because some ho- I mean because some _random_ guy-

 **Ohhhh, you practically admitted that he's _hot!_**

 _No, I certainly did not!_

 **Denial is only the first stage.**

 _You're really annoying, have I told you that?_

 **A hundred times maybe?**

 _Then let me tell you for the hundredth and first time: You are the most annoying thing on Earth!_

 **Gee, thanks. I'm _sooo_ sorry for pointing out the obvious.**

Ahem! Back where we were- because some _random_ guy was close to me! I could've sworn he has smirking.

We walked through the strawberry fields, where campers were picking bushels of berries while a satyr played a tune on a reed pipe.

Will told me the camp grew a nice crop for export to New York restaurants and Mount Olympus. "It pays our expenses, " he explained. "And the strawberries take almost no effort.

He said Mr. D had this effect on fruit-bearing plants: they just went crazy when he was around. It worked best with wine grapes, but Mr. D was restricted from growing those, so they grew strawberries instead.

As we got closer to the woods, I realized how huge the forest was. It took up at least a quarter of the valley, with trees so tall and thick, you could imagine nobody had been in there since the Native Americans.

Will said, "The woods are stocked, if you care to try your luck, but go armed. Now that I'm thinking of it, I don't suppose you have a weapon? "

"A weapon?"

"Yeah, being a demigod requires that. I can take you to the armory later. I think a size five will do."

"Oh! Who is your godly parent?"

"It's Apollo," he beamed with pride. "God of the sun, light, healing, music, poetry, archery, reason and prophecy."

"I wish I knew who mine was." I sighted.

He chuckled lightly, " Well, the only thing I can tell you is that you have to wait until you're claimed. But, surely you're not an Apollo's kid. We usually have blonde hair, blue eyes. I don't think I've ever met a sibling of mine with hair darker than brown."

Finally, he showed me the cabins. There were twelve of them, nestled in the woods by the lake. They were arranged in a U, with two at the base and five in a row on either side. And they were without doubt the most bizarre collection of buildings I'd ever seen.

Except for the fact that each had a large brass number above the door (odds on the left side, evens on the right), they looked absolutely nothing alike. Number nine had smokestacks, like a tiny factory. Number four had tomato vines on the walls and a roof made out of real grass. Seven seemed to be made of solid gold, which gleamed so much in the sunlight it was almost impossible to look at.

"Your cabin?" I guessed.

"Yeah."

"Isn't it a bit too. . ." I didn't know the proper word to describe it.

". . . shiny, you mean?" he completed.

"Exactly!"

"It comes with being the god of sun and all that." he smirked when he saw me struggling to cover my eyes with my hands. Honestly, the thing was just too bright for me. "Only the Apollo kids can look directly at it."

"Nice to know."

All the cabins faced a commons area about the size of a soccer field, dotted with Greek statues, fountains, flower beds, and a couple of basketball hoops (which were more my speed).

In the center of the field was a huge stone-lined firepit. Even though it was a warm afternoon, the hearth smoldered. A girl about nine years old was tending the flames, poking the coals with a stick. She gave me the same feeling as Mr. D, she radiated power, only hers was more. . . kind. I don't know how to explain it, she just made me feel better just by walking pass her.

 **She's a goddess and her name starts with an H. . .**

Hestia! She was one of my personal favorite goddesses, not a badass as I preferred them to be, but still! I started to respect her a lot when I learned (last summer actually) that she gave up her throne as an Olympian for Dionysus, just so as not to start a war. And knowing what kind of man- err, I mean god Mr. D was. . . well. . . Anyways, I made a mental note to visit her afterwards. Maybe she could help me with find out who my father is.

We continued the tour.

The pair of cabins at the head of the field, numbers one and two, looked like his-and-hers mausoleums, big white marble boxes with heavy columns in front. Cabin one was the biggest and bulkiest of the twelve. Its polished bronze doors shimmered like a hologram, so that from different angles lightning bolts seemed to streak across them. Cabin two was more graceful somehow, with slimmer columns garlanded with pomegranates and flowers. The walls were carved with images of peacocks.

"Zeus and Hera?" I guessed.

"Yes," he said and nudged me to move to the other one.

Okay. So each cabin had a different god, like a mascot. Twelve cabins for the twelve Olympians.

I stopped in front of the first cabin on the left, cabin three.

It wasn't high and mighty like cabin one, but long and low and solid. The outer walls were of rough gray stone studded with pieces of seashell and coral, as if the slabs had been hewn straight from the bottom of the ocean floor. I could imagine myself living there.

I peeked inside the open doorway and Will said, "Oh, I wouldn't do that!"

Before he could pull me back, I caught the salty scent of the interior, like the wind on the shore at Montauk. The interior walls glowed like abalone. There were six empty bunk beds with silk sheets turned down. But there was no sign anyone had ever slept there. The place felt so sad and lonely, I was glad when Will put his hand on my shoulder and said, "Come along, Cori. "

Most of the other cabins were crowded with campers.

Number five was bright red-a real nasty paint job, as if the color had been splashed on with buckets and fists. The roof was lined with barbed wire. A stuffed wild boar's head hung over the doorway, and its eyes seemed to follow me. Inside I could see a bunch of mean-looking kids, both girls and boys, arm wrestling and arguing with each other while rock music blared. The loudest was a girl maybe thirteen or fourteen. She wore a size XXXL CAMP HALF-BLOOD T-shirt under a camouflage jacket. She zeroed in on me and gave me an evil sneer. She reminded me of Nancy Bobofit, though the camper girl was much bigger and tougher looking, and her hair was long and stringy, and brown instead of red.

"I wouldn't mess with the ares campers if I were you. Oh, look, " he said, although he looked a bit sad that the tour was over. "Annabeth is waiting for us. "

The blond girl I'd met at the Big House was reading a book in front of the last cabin on the left, number eleven.

When we reached her, she looked me over critically, but then smiled nonetheless.

I tried to see what she was reading, but I couldn't make out the title. I thought my dyslexia was acting up. Then I realized the title wasn't even English. The letters looked Greek to me. I mean, literally Greek. There were pictures of temples and statues and different kinds of columns, like those in an architecture book.

"I'll take her from here, Will. Come on," Annabeth said. "This is cabin eleven."

From the corner of my eye I saw Will going to the archery range and greeting some kids who looked a hell lot like him. His siblings. . . I realized. I'd like it if I had some siblings too.

Anyways, back to the cabin, out of all the others, cabin eleven looked the most like a regular old summer camp cabin, with the emphasis on old. The threshold was worn down, the brown paint peeling. Over the doorway was one of those doctor's symbols, a winged pole with two snakes wrapped around it. What did they call it... ? A caduceus.

 **Yes.**

Inside, it was packed with people, both boys and girls, way more than the number of bunk beds. Sleeping bags were spread all over on the floor. It looked like a gym where the Red Cross had set up an evacuation center.

"Well, then, " Annabeth said. "Good luck, Cori. I'll see you at dinner. " And with that she sprinted away.

I stood in the doorway, looking at the kids. They were staring at me, sizing me up. I knew this routine. I'd gone through it at enough schools.

I realized that they weren't saying anything, so I started to introduce myself to ease the tension, "Hi, I'm Cori Jackson. Unclaimed."

A guy who was a little older than the rest came forward. " Welcome, Cori. You can have that spot on the floor, right over there. "

The guy was about nineteen, and he looked pretty cool. Who am I fooling? He was gorgeous. He was tall and muscular, with short-cropped sandy hair and a friendly smile. He wore an orange tank top, cutoffs, sandals, and a leather necklace with five different-colored clay beads. The only thing unsettling about his appearance was a thick white scar that ran from just beneath his right eye to his jaw, like an old knife slash.

He must've noticed my look of confusion and added, "Oh, and I'm Luke, by the way." He extended his hand for me to shake and I took it,

"Oh, come on, Luke. Let a bit for us." I turned my head left and saw two tall and skinny boys with a mop of curly brown hair that hung on their baby blue eyes. They were wearing orange camp T-shirts untucked over baggy shorts. They had elfish features, upturned eyebrows, sarcastic smiles and a gleam in their eyes, like they were ready to "drop a firecracker down your shirt." Both of them had a crooked smile and would've passed for twins if only they had the same height. They screamed one thing TROUBLEMAKERS. I figured we would be great friends one day.

"Connor's right, " the taller one said. "Why do you always get to stay with the hot girls?"

Luke ignored them, "So, have you gotten a tour yet?"

"Yeah, Will gave me one."

"I can give you another one if you want me to." One of the troublemaker boys said and winked at me.

That doesn't work with me babe, I'm sorry. I raised an eyebrow at them, "And who are you?"

"I'm Connor—"

"—and I'm Travis— "

"Stoll," they both finished and I just couldn't keep my laugh.

"Well, then I'm delighted to meet you, Travis and Connor Stole— err I mean _Stoll_ " I said dramatically as everyone in the cabin laughed. I can't help it, I'm a natural.

"A funny one I see, haha," Travis faked laugh .

"Don't despair brother dear, you have a nice-looking daughter of Demeter for yourself. " He gazed at his brother knowingly.

"Katie Gardner daughter of Demeter. Travis has a big-not-so-secret-crush on her," Luke whispered down at me.

"I see," and a rather mischievous smile formed on my face.

"Oi, Connor, you mean Katie Gardner?" he nodded eagerly. "Oh, when Will was giving me the tour I think I heard her talking to some girl about how cute you look when laughing. I think you should go and see-" He didn't even let me finish and stormed out of the cabin.

"Did you really hear that?" Connor asked.

"Nope, just having some fun. I like pranking people." as soon as the words left my mouth, nearly everyone in the cabin groaned. I think I even heard someone say 'not another one'.

"Pranking?" he asked suspiciously.

"One of my favorite hobbies."

"Well, now that this chit-chat is over, I think that you should make yourself comfortable." Luke pointed at the spot he told me earlier. "Oh, and I stole you some things from the camp shop, sleeping bag and all that stuff."

"Thanks," I said.

"It was the least I could do." he gave me one of those charming smiles that would make girls forget their names.

I took my sleeping bag and placed it at the corner Luke told me. I dropped the minotaur horn there and turned at the cabin, "I'm trusting you with it. No games, okay?" And with that I went back outside trying to calm myself.

I went back at the firepit. The nine-year-old-looking-goddess was still there.

 _"Lady Hestia," I bowed._

"You must be Cori Jackson," she said. "There's no need to bow, darling," I got up again. "Do you want to talk to me about something, child?"

I nodded.

"Well then, come," she started walking and I followed her to the big house. She kept walking until we came in front of a light brown door with beautiful carvings. The inside was even more beautiful, or. . . well, cozier. The walls were a nice shade of orange, with big white windows and light yellow curtains. There was a wooden bed in one corner and a fireplace in the other. A comfortable sofa with soft light blue cushions were near it. She motioned for me to sit there, which I did, and so did she. Finally, after forever she asked "Do you want some hot chocolate, Cori?"

"Yes," only gods know how much I need one right now.

She just snapped her fingers and not only hot chocolate, but some homemade biscuits appeared out of thin air. They tasted just how my mother made them. Perfect.

"What burdens you, child?" she asked politely.

 _Half an hour later_

"Thank you, Aunt Hestia. I promise I'll visit again soon."

* * *

I was walking to the Hermes Cabin when a familiar-looking blonde-haired boy caught up with me, "Hey Will, what's up?"

"Fine, you? How did 'meeting-the-cabin' go?"

"It was kind of fun actually. Connor and I played some kind of a harmless prank on Travis, but other than that, nothing much."

"I don't want to hear the end of this," he chuckled.

"Why not?"

"Maybe because Connor and Travis are the biggest pranksters here?" he suggested.

"Nah, I have Connor on my side. Plus I'm a prankster myself, I'm sure he'd understand."

"I suppose I should look more carefully where I step now. Three pranksters at camp. . ." He left the word floating.

"Oh you should," I smirked evilly.

Then a husky voice yelled, "Well! A newbie!"

I looked over. The big girl from the ugly red cabin was sauntering toward us. She had three other girls behind her, all big and ugly and mean looking like her, all wearing camo jackets.

"Clarisse, " Will sighed. "Why don't you go polish your spear or something?"

"Sure thing, Sunshine, " the big girl said. "So I can run you through with it Friday night. "

Then, in a millisecond , Annabeth was next to me, ''Erre es korakas!" she said, which I somehow under-stood was Greek for 'Go to the crows!' this must be the ancient greek version of "Go to hell." "You don't stand a chance. "

"We'll pulverize you, " Clarisse said, but her eye twitched. Perhaps she wasn't sure she could follow through on the threat. She turned toward me. "Who's this little runt?"

"Cori Jackson, " Annabeth said, "meet Clarisse, Daughter of Ares. "

I blinked. "Like ... The war god?"

Clarisse sneered. "You got a problem with that?"

"No, " I said, recovering my wits. "It explains the bad smell. "

Clarisse growled. "We got an initiation ceremony for newbies, _Cori_. Come on, I'll show you. "

"Clarisse-" Will tried to say.

"Stay out of it, Sunshine. "

Will looked like he wanted to say more, but Annabeth grabbed him by his shoulder. He didn't say anything after that. I was the new kid. I had to earn my own rep. And I would do it.

I handed Will my minotaur horn and got ready to fight, but before I knew it, Clarisse had me by the neck and was dragging me toward a cinder-block building that I knew immediately was the bathroom.

I was kicking and punching. I'd been in plenty of fights before, but this big girl Clarisse had hands like iron. She dragged me into the girls' bathroom. There was a line of toilets on one side and a line of shower stalls down the other. It smelled just like any public bathroom, and I was thinking-as much as I could think with Clarisse ripping my hair out-that if this place belonged to the gods, they should've been able to afford classier johns.

Clarisse's friends were all laughing, and I was trying to find the strength I'd used to fight the Minotaur, but it just wasn't there.

"Like she's 'Big Three' material, " Clarisse said as she pushed me toward one of the toilets. "Yeah, right. Minotaur probably fell over laughing, she was so stupid looking. "

"Oh, you—" and let's say I just cursed so badly, I could make a sailor blush.

Her friends gasped at me. Probably nobody had ever insulted Clarisse so badly.

Annabeth stood in the corner, watching through her fingers. Will looked like he was fighting with himself, weather to let me handle it, or shoot an arrow through Clarisse's head. It's not like she's going to miss it, though. She doesn't look like the person to use it very much.

Clarisse bent me over on my knees and started pushing my head toward the toilet bowl. It reeked like rusted pipes and, well, like what goes into toilets. I strained to keep my head up. I was looking at the scummy water, thinking, I will not go into that. I won't.

Then something happened. I felt a tug in the pit of my stomach. I heard the plumbing rumble, the pipes shudder. Clarisse's grip on my hair loosened. Water shot out of the toilet, making an arc straight over my head, and the next thing I knew, I was sprawled on the bathroom tiles with Clarisse screaming behind me.

I turned just as water blasted out of the toilet again, hitting Clarisse straight in the face so hard it pushed her down onto her butt. The water stayed on her like the spray from a fire hose, pushing her backward into a shower stall.

She struggled, gasping, and her friends started coming toward her. But then the other toilets exploded, too, and six more streams of toilet water blasted them back. The showers acted up, too, and together all the fixtures sprayed the camouflage girls right out of the bathroom, spinning them around like pieces of garbage being washed away.

As soon as they were out the door, I felt the tug in my gut lessen, and the water shut off as quickly as it had started.

The entire bathroom was flooded. Annabeth and Will hadn't been spared. They was dripping wet, but hadn't been pushed out the door. They were standing in exactly the same place, staring at me in shock.

I looked down and realized I was sitting in the only dry spot in the whole room. There was a circle of dry floor around me. I didn't have one drop of water on my clothes. Nothing.

I stood up, looking around in horror.

Annabeth said, "How did you ... "

"No idea."

We walked to the door. Outside, Clarisse and her friends were sprawled in the mud, and a bunch of other campers had gathered around to gawk. Clarisse's hair was flattened across her face. Her camouflage jacket was sop-ping and she smelled like sewage. She gave me a look of absolute hatred. "You are dead, new girlie. You are totally dead. "

I probably should have let it go, but I said, "You want to gargle with toilet water again, Clarisse? Close your mouth. The smell of it would probably put a ferret to shame."

Her friends had to hold her back. They dragged her toward cabin five, while the other campers made way to avoid her flailing feet.

Annabeth and Will stared at me. I couldn't tell whether they was just grossed out or angry at me for dousing her.

"What?" I demanded. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm thinking, " Annabeth said, "that I want you on my team for capture the flag. "

I smirked. Maybe this place wasn't so bad after all.

Maybe I could learn to call it . . . home.

 **I didn't know you liked this place so much. It's rather. . . wet.**

 _The camp, not the bathroom!_

* * *

 **Yep, that's it for today.**

 **The conversation with Hestia will be reviled later. *evil laugh*** **Now this super mega ultra long chapter is make up for the other week.** **I will be in a summer camp, where devices like phones, laptops and tablets are not allowed.**

 **I'm sooo sorry, there won't be a new chapter until 2nd or 3rd July.**

 **Please R &R,**

 **~ Mel ~**


	6. My dinner goes up in smoke?

**Chapter 6**

 **Soooo, I'm back! Missed me?**

 **Camp was great (even though we weren't allowed to have phones) and the activities super cool! You'll never guess what I did *evil laugh*. Okay,I'm telling you: I played capture the flag! I wasn't the best. . . but still! If I didn't know I'd think I was at camp half-blood.**

 **Anyways, maybe you don't know but I made some changes in the last chapter. I realized that her and Will holding hands. . . it was a bit too early, at least I think so! And you have noo idea what the voice is. . . mwahahah!**

 **Back to the changes, it starts when she is talking to Chiron right after she wakes up, until Clarisse comes. Oh, and by the way, do you like the new cover? I'm not bothering you anymore!**

 **I do not own Percy Jackson! All rights go to Rick Riordan!**

 **Enjoy this chapter of** ** _Cori Jackson and the Lighting Thief!_**

 **My dinner goes up in…smoke?**

Word of the bathroom incident spread faster than Greek fire (I'm really starting to learn some demigod vocabulary). Wherever I went, campers pointed at me and murmured something about toilet water and Big Three. Or maybe they were just staring at Will and Annabeth, who were still pretty much dripping wet. You never know!

They showed me a few more places: the metal shop (where kids were forging their own swords), the arts- and-crafts room (where satyrs were sandblasting a giant marble statue of a goat-man. It was later I realized that was Pan), and the climbing wall, which actually consisted of two facing walls that shook violently, dropped boulders, sprayed lava, and clashed together if you didn't get to the top fast enough. Fascinating, huh?

Finally we returned to the canoeing lake, where the trail led back to the cabins.

"I've got training to do, " Annabeth said flatly. "Dinner's at seven-thirty. Just follow your cabin to the mess hall. "

"Yeah, I've got to go to my cabin too," Will added. "I think I've got to. . . dry myself. . . after I take a shower. "

Looking at them, I felt the tiniest bit of sympathy. Just a bit! Still I couldn't help thinking that it was my fault. I 'd made water shoot out of the bathroom fixtures. I didn't understand how. But the toilets had responded to me. I had become one with the plumbing.

"Look, guys, I don't know how I did the _thing_ back there, but. . . I'm sorry," apologizing wasn't easy to me. I wasn't used to it. I didn't like it when I was wrong.

"You need to talk to the Oracle of Delphi, " Annabeth said seriously.

"Who?" I asked.

"Not who. What. The Oracle. I'll ask Chiron. "

Whatever this Oracle of Dolphin was—

 **The Oracle of Delphi *sights* What will I do with you?**

 _The question is: What would you do_ without _me?_

 **Many things.**

Ahem, anyway, whatever this Oracle of _Delphi_ was, it was a serious matter.

I stared into the lake, wishing somebody would give me a straight answer for once. Geez people , why do you always talk in riddles?

I lifted my head up and looked at the campers that were training. They were tired— yes, but there was something in their eyes. Something I envied. At least they knew that this was home— _their home,_ while I knew nothing about mine. Always being on boarding schools didn't help the matters. The only home I'd ever known was with my mom. Surely, now that she was gone I wouldn't go back to Smelly Baboon. But I didn't feel in _completely_ peace here either. I was sure it was because my father hadn't claimed me yet. I knew that I had just woken up but still! A sign would've done it! It doesn't take _that_ much energy!

Still looking at the campers, I felt someone's gaze on me. I turned around and saw Luke playing with his siblings on the volleyball court. He winked and waved at me while I waved back. I saw Annabeth blushing furiously when Luke grinned at her. MAJOR CRUSH ALERT!

Then, his smile stiffened and his eyes fell on my shoulder, where— I just realized— Will's hand was resting. I turned my head to get a clearer look at Will and saw him glaring daggers at Luke, who was now, playing again, as if he never saw us. Guys are weird!

"So," I started. I wanted to break the tension between us. "Who's your father Annabeth?"

Her hands tightened around the pier railing. I got the feeling I'd just trespassed on a sensitive subject. _Great!_ I thought sarcastically, _More tension! Just what I need!_

"My dad is a professor at West Point, " she said. "I haven't seen him since I was very small. He teaches American history. "

"He's human. "

"What? You assume it has to be a male god who finds a human female attractive? How sexist is that?"

"Come on Annabeth. She's knew, she didn't know. Cut her some slack." Will said.

I felt reviled he talked. Annabeth seemed to consider this and sighted. "Sorry, my nerves haven't been right since the winter solstice."

"It's okay," I found myself staring at the lake again. I wasn't expecting anybody to be looking back at me from the bottom, so my heart skipped a beat when I noticed two teenage girls sitting cross-legged at the base of the pier, about twenty feet below. They wore blue jeans and shimmering green T-shirts, and their brown hair floated loose around their shoulders as minnows darted in and out. They smiled and waved as if I were a long-lost friend.

"Athena," she finally spoke.

"What?"

"My mother. It's Athena," she straightened. "Goddess of wisdom and battle strategy,"

"Sounds cool,"

Silence again.

I started thinking about claiming. How long would it take? How would it be like? If I do get claimed, would I get any siblings? But one question ringed on my mind over and over _Will I ever get claimed?_

"Maybe," she said. I realized I must've talked aloud.

"You mean sometimes it doesn't happen?"

Annabeth ran her palm along the rail. "The gods are busy. They have a lot of kids and they don't always ... Well, sometimes they don't care about us, Cori. They ignore us. "

I thought about some of the kids I'd seen in the Hermes cabin, teenagers who looked sullen and depressed, as if they were waiting for a call that would never come. I'd known kids like that at Yancy Academy, shuffled off to boarding school by rich parents who didn't have the time to deal with them. But gods should behave better.

"So I'm stuck here, " I said. "That's it? For the rest of my life?"

"It depends, " this time it was Will talking. "Some campers only stay the summer. If you're a child of Aphrodite or Demeter, you're probably not a real powerful force. The monsters might ignore you, so you can get by with a few months of summer training and live in the mortal world the rest of the year. But for some of us, it's too dangerous to leave. We're year-rounders. In the mortal world, we attract monsters. They sense us. They come to challenge us. Most of the time, they'll ignore us until we're old enough to cause trouble-about ten or eleven years old, but after that, most demigods either make their way here, or they killed off. A few manage to survive in the outside world and become famous. Believe me, if I told you the names, you'd know them. Some don't even realize they're demigods. But very, very few are like that. "

"So monsters can't get in here?" I realized that there was some kind of a trick protecting us.

"How d'you know?" Annabeth asked

"Well, they keep saying that this is the safest place for demigods and my. . . my mom said that she couldn't come in here. I suspect there's some kind of barrier protecting the camp and no one without godly blood in them can come inside."

Annabeth shook her head. "Not unless they're intentionally stocked in the woods or specially summoned by somebody on the inside."

"Why would anybody want to summon a monster?"

"Practice fights. Practical jokes."

"Summoning a monster is a joke?" I was a prankster myself, but I knew where the limit was. Pulling pranks was to have a good laugh afterwards, not to get somebody killed.

"The point is, the borders are sealed to keep mortals and monsters out. From the outside, mortals look into the valley and see nothing unusual, just a strawberry farm. "

"So, most of you are year-rounder?"

"Yes, both of us are," Will answered.

Annabeth nodded. From under the collar of her T-shirt she pulled a leather necklace with five clay beads of different colors. It was just like Luke's, except Annabeth's also had a big gold ring strung on it, like a college ring.

"I've been here since I was seven, " she said. "Every August, on the last day of summer session, you get a bead for surviving another year. I've been here longer than most of the counselors, and they're all in college. "

"What about you Will?"

He pulled out his leather necklace, which had only three colored clay beads.

"I've been here for only three years. I arrived when I was nine. Long story."I nodded.

"So... I could just walk out of here right now if I wanted to?" I asked hopefully.

"Want to get away from us so fast? Are we _that_ horrible?" Will asked smirking, attempting to make a joke.

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "It would be suicide, but you could, with Mr. D's or Chiron's permission. But they wouldn't give permission until the end of the summer session unless ... you were granted a quest. But that hardly ever happens. The last time ... "

Her voice trailed off. I could tell from her tone that the last time hadn't gone well.

"Annabeth, you said something that your nerves haven't been well since the winter solstice."

Annabeth's shoulders tensed. "So you do know something?"

"Well... No. Back at my old school, I overheard Grover and Chiron talking about it. Grover mentioned the summer solstice. He said something like we didn't have much time, because of the deadline. What did that mean?"

She clenched her fists. "I wish I knew. "

Will cleared his throat, "Chiron and the satyrs, they know, but they won't tell us. Something is wrong in Olympus, something pretty major. Last time we were there, everything seemed so normal. "

"You've been to Olympus?"

"Some of us year-rounders we took a field trip during winter solstice. That's when the gods have their big annual council. "

"Right after we visited, " Annabeth continued, "the weather got weird, as if the gods had started fighting. A couple of times since, I've overheard satyrs talking. The best I can figure out is that something important was stolen. And if it isn't returned by summer solstice, there's going to be trouble. When you came, I was hoping ... I mean- Athena can get along with just about anybody, except for Ares. And of course she's got the rivalry with Poseidon. But, I mean, aside from that, I thought we could work together. I thought you might know something. "

I shook my head. I wished I could help her, but I felt too hungry and tired and mentally overloaded to ask any more questions.

"I've got to get a quest, " Annabeth muttered to her-self. "I'm not too young. If they would just tell me the problem ... "

"Annabeth," Will started. "You know what happened last time. If it's that important to worry the gods. . . then it's not our job."

I could smell barbecue smoke coming from somewhere nearby. Annabeth must've heard my stomach growl. She told me and Will to go on, she'd catch us later. I left her on the pier, tracing her finger across the rail as if drawing a battle plan. Meanwhile Will went back to his cabin for. . . the shower.

Back at cabin eleven, everybody was talking and horsing around, waiting for dinner. For the first time, I noticed that a lot of the campers had similar features: sharp noses, upturned eyebrows, mischievous smiles. They were the kind of kids that teachers would peg as troublemakers. Thankfully, nobody paid much attention to me as I walked over to my spot on the floor and plopped down with my minotaur horn.

The counselor, Luke, came over. He had the Hermes family resemblance, too. It was marred by that scar on his right cheek, but his smile was intact.

Luke sat next to me, pushed his back against the wall. "Tough first day?"

"You could say that," I said. "So your dad is Hermes?"

"That's him. Messengers. Medicine. Travelers, mer-chants, thieves. Anybody who uses the roads. That's why you're here, enjoying cabin eleven's hospitality. Hermes isn't picky about who he sponsors. "

"You ever meet your dad?" I asked.

"Once. "

Luke looked up and managed a smile. "Don't worry about it, Cori. The campers here, they're mostly good people. After all, we're extended family, right? We take care of each other. We won't let you down." He had bitterness in his voice, but still managed a smile. Wonder why he's sad? Could it be that bad?

That moment a frightened Connor came running inside the cabin. "Where's Cori? Where is she? Oh, man. . ."

"Right here!" I yelled.

He came running to me faster than I'd ever seen a person before. Well, it should be a Hermes kid thing. "Travis is looking for us. He's angry about. . . you know. . . what you said about Katie. Now he's mad at me too, because I didn't warn him. I swear he was fuming."

"Well, it can't be _that_ bad, can it?"

"You have no idea."

 _Oops_

At the exact moment, Travis came in the cabin, the door slamming behind him. "Where. Are. They?" He looked around the cabin and saw us in one corner.

"Uh. . . hi? How did the talk with Katie go?" I asked.

"How. . . could you? I made a fool of myself right in front of her."

"What happened?" Connor asked.

"What happened? What happened? Are you really asking that? She grew some plants right there and I was stuck in a tree for an hour!"

"Come on, Travis. It's not that bad. You have suffered worse. Call it a payback for all the pranks you've done." Luke came forward from the spot he was sitting. He and Travis looked at each-other in the eye. It was as they were speaking through them. Then he stepped back smirking.

"Fine," was all Travis said. But the look in his face didn't go unnoticed by me or Connor. It was the same look I got when I was about to pull a prank. _Crap!_

After that, everybody in the cabin went back to. . . whatever they were doing before.

I was sitting in the corner with Luke, just like we were before Travis's outburst. I decided to ask him my last big question, the one that had been bothering me all afternoon. "Clarisse, from Ares, was joking about me being 'Big Three' material. Then Annabeth . . . Twice, she said I might be 'the one. ' She said I should talk to the Oracle of Donkeys or something. What was that all about?"

He was too busy laughing to answer my question, but he managed, "The. . . oracle. . . donkeys. . . funniest. . . thing. . . all day."

"Haha, really funny Mr. Counselor. Now, my question."

His face twitched around the scar. "Let's just say I messed things up for everybody else. The last two years, ever since my trip to the Garden of the Hesperides went sour, Chiron hasn't allowed any more quests. Annabeth's been dying to get out into the world. She pestered Chiron so much he finally told her he already knew her fate. He'd had a prophecy from the Oracle. He wouldn't tell her the whole thing, but he said Annabeth wasn't destined to go on a quest yet. She had to wait until... Somebody special came to the camp. But don't worry about it, Cori, " Luke said. "Annabeth wants to think every new camper who comes through here is the omen she's been waiting for."

"Well, I can imagine myself being a special person." I waved my hand dramatically.

"Sure you are. Now, come on, it's dinnertime. "

The moment he said it, a horn blew in the distance. Somehow, I knew it was a conch shell, even though I'd never heard one before.

He offered me a hand, which I gladly took, and got up. Luke yelled, "Eleven, fall in!"

The whole cabin, about twenty of us, filed into the commons yard. We lined up in order of seniority, so of course I was dead last. Campers came from the other cab-ins, too, except for the three empty cabins at the end, and cabin eight, which had looked normal in the daytime, but was now starting to glow silver as the sun went down.

We marched up the hill to the mess hall pavilion. Satyrs joined us from the meadow. Naiads emerged from the canoeing lake. A few other girls came out of the woods. I saw one girl, about nine or ten years old, melt from the side of a maple tree and come skipping up the hill.

In all, there were maybe a hundred campers, a few dozen satyrs, and a dozen assorted wood nymphs and naiads.

At the pavilion, torches blazed around the marble columns. A central fire burned in a bronze brazier the size of a bathtub. Each cabin had its own table, covered in white cloth trimmed in purple. Four of the tables were empty, but cabin eleven's was way overcrowded. Fortunately, Luke had saved a seat for me near him. I looked at him suspiciously, but took the place nonetheless. I didn't want to squeeze myself to death, just to find a place to seat!

I saw Grover sitting at table twelve with Mr. D, a few satyrs, and a couple of plump blond boys who looked just like Mr. D. Chiron stood to one side, the picnic table being way too small for a centaur.

Annabeth sat at table six with a bunch of serious-looking athletic kids, all with her gray eyes and honey- blond hair.

Clarisse sat behind me at Ares's table. She'd apparently gotten over being hosed down, because she was laughing and belching right alongside her friends.

Will was sittind at table seven with his siblings. His table was really crowded, not as much as ours, but still. How could one god have so many kids? And at the same time? The thought made me shudder.

Finally, Chiron pounded his hoof against the marble floor of the pavilion, and everybody fell silent. He raised a glass. "To the gods!"

Everybody else raised their glasses. "To the gods!"

Wood nymphs came forward with platters of food: grapes, apples, strawberries, cheese, fresh bread, and yes, barbecue! My glass was empty, but Luke said, "Speak to it. Whatever you want-nonalcoholic, of course. "

I said, "Cherry Coke. "

The glass filled with sparkling caramel liquid.

Then I had an idea. "Blue Cherry Coke. "

The soda turned a violent shade of cobalt.

I took a cautious sip. Perfect.

I drank a toast to my mother.

She's not gone, I told myself. Not permanently, anyway. She's in the Underworld. And if that's a real place, then someday. . .

"Here you go, Cori, " Luke said, handing me a platter of smoked brisket.

I loaded my plate and was about to take a big bite when I noticed everybody getting up, carrying their plates toward the fire in the center of the pavilion. I wondered if they were going for dessert or something.

"Come on, " Luke told me.

As I got closer, I saw that everyone was taking a portion of their meal and dropping it into the fire, the ripest straw-berry, the juiciest slice of beef, the warmest, most buttery roll.

Luke murmured in my ear, "Burnt offerings for the gods. They like the smell.

"You're kidding. "

His look warned me not to take this lightly, but I couldn't help wondering why an immortal, all-powerful being would like the smell of burning food.

Luke approached the fire, bowed his head, and tossed in a cluster of fat red grapes. "Hermes. "

I was next.

I wasn't going to burn an offering to my dad. Finally, I made a silent plea. _To Hermes, thank you for letting me stay in your cabin. . . And to Aunt Hestia. Thank you for talking to me._

I scraped a big slice of brisket into the flames.

When I caught a whiff of the smoke, I didn't gag.

It smelled nothing like burning food. It smelled of hot chocolate and fresh-baked brownies, hamburgers on the grill and wildflowers, and a hundred other good things that shouldn't have gone well together, but did. I could almost believe the gods could live off that smoke.

During dinner I had some light conversations with the Hermes cabin. Mostly telling them about myself.

When everybody had returned to their seats and finished eating their meals, Chiron pounded his hoof again for our attention. Mr. D got up with a huge sigh. "Yes, I suppose I'd bet-ter say hello to all you brats. Well, hello. Our activities director, Chiron, says the next capture the flag is Friday. Cabin five presently holds the laurels. "

A bunch of ugly cheering rose from the Ares table.

"Personally, " Mr. D continued, "I couldn't care less, but congratulations. Also, I should tell you that we have a new camper today. Cornelia Johnson. "

Chiron murmured something.

"Er, Cori Jackson, " Mr. D corrected. "That's right. Hurrah, and all that. Now run along to your silly campfire. Go on. "

Everybody cheered. We all headed down toward the amphitheater, where Apollo's cabin led a sing- along. We sang camp songs about the gods and ate s'mores and joked around, and the funny thing was, I didn't feel that anyone was staring at me anymore. I felt that I was home.

I saw Will, who looked at peace. He had taken a guitar and sang with his brothers and sisters.

Damn it. That boy had a voice.

 **Handsome** ** _and_** **talented. We have a winner.**

 _You'll never leave me alone, will you?_

 **It depends.**

 _Wait— What? Depends on what?_

 **Hehe, time to go.**

I never, _ever_ thought there'd be a time I'd want to talk to 'the voice'.

Later in the evening, when the sparks from the campfire were curling into a starry sky, the conch horn blew again, and we all filed back to our cabins. I didn't realize how exhausted I was until I collapsed on my borrowed sleeping bag.

My fingers curled around the Minotaur's horn. I thought about my mom, but I had good thoughts: her smile, the bedtime stories she would read me when I was a kid, the way she would tell me not to let the bedbugs bite.

When I closed my eyes, I fell asleep instantly.

That was my first day at Camp Half-Blood.

I wish I'd known that tomorrow, I would wake up— angry with a certain son of Hermes— and find myself pranked, along with his brother.

 **Sooo, that's it for today. I hope you liked it. We had some other conversations with the voice. What could it be its secret? You'll have to read to find out.**

 **Any ideas for the prank Travis pulled on Cori and Connor?**

 **Please R &R**

 **~ Mel ~**


	7. We capture a flag

**I'm so so sooo sorry I haven't written in a while. My computer had a virus and _someone_ (a.k.a my dad) wouldn't give me their laptop. Completely unfair! Anyways, here I am now and I hope that you forgive me.**

 **Enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

 ** _We capture a flag_**

Have you ever woken up cursing someone?

Well, I have. Let me start from the beginning.

I had just woken up from a dreamless sleep. Funny thing, it hadn't happened since had turned into a monster, and a very scary one. I let a long yawn and looked around me. Almost everyone in the cabin (the ones that were awake) were enjoying a show— err _a completely quiet conversation_ between Connor and Travis.

Not wanting to attract attention—

 **The world is ending! Cori Jackson doesn't want to attract attention!**

 _Shut up. I'm not in the mood to talk to you,_

Not wanting to attract attention, I went quietly in the back of the cabin and listened.

"—looking remarkably good!" said Travis, grinning like a madman.

"Oh, you idiot! I understand that you were angry at me, but _this_? It means prank war, brother!" said Connor with a glare. Only then I realized that Connor _, wasn't_ Connor. Not exactly. His usual curly brown hair was turned a nasty shade of yellow— I winced at that— and his face! Oh, his _face_! I felt sorry for the boy. His face reassembled a work of bad make up. Even I could've done better than that, counting that I'd never touched make up tools in my life! _'Kiss me'_ was written with red lipstick on his forehead. A fake snake was in his hands and by the look of it he had tried to strangle it, resulting in cutting its head off. _I only wander why?_

"Then so be it!" hissed Travis and headed for the door. Then, just before walking out, he looked around and when his eyes landed on me he smirked. "I let you go easy this time. I could've done worse." And with a wink he stormed out.

"The son of a—"

"— Cori, what happened to your hair?" asked horrified Melinda, a ten-year-old daughter of Hecate. Since her mother wasn't an Olympian, she was stuck in cabin eleven.

"Her hair? Look at her face!" shouted someone else.

I went to the nearest mirror. Oh, Travis was asking for it! How dare he! I looked like a troll was given the task to put make up in my face! I was nearly the same as Connor, except that Travis had let out the _'Kiss me'_ part. Then he had died my hair pink! And pink of all colors! The evil one! I tried to get off the make up, but I only messed it worse. I let out a scream of frustration. He wants war, then so be it!

"Looks like Travis is going to suffer," Connor said, coming closer to me.

"Believe me, he is. Really, _really_ badly."

* * *

That day at breakfast I wore a large cap that covered my face and hair, which Sarah— a nice daughter o Hermes— let me borrow. May the gods be with her! That girl is a blessing.

After finishing my meal ( and giving Travis the evil eye), I got up and headed for the bathroom, hoping that I would be able to make my appearance as it was before _the incident_. But, of course I had to bump into someone. Or better two _someones_.

"Oi— watch where you're going— Will?" It came out more like a question. Glancing to his right was a tall slim girl. She had silky black hair that reached her middle-back, brilliant blue eyes and flawless skin. She looked like one of those smoking hot supermodels.

"Cori! Are you all right?" he asked, while helping me get up.

"Yeah, I'm fine " I snapped.

"Silena, this is Cori, the girl I was talking you about," he looked between us. "Cori Silena, Silena, Cori," he introduced.

We shook hands. At the very moment, wind blew by, and my cap fell on the ground. I tried to catch it fast, but luck wasn't on my side.

"What happened to your face?" Silena screamed.

I quickly reached to get my cap, holding it for dear life and putting it back in its place. "Two words," I said. "Travis Stoll."

"Does this have to do with—" Will started.

"Yes," I interrupted. "Now, if you'd let me, I've got to go to the bathroom and make myself presentable." I started going away but Silena caught my arm.

"Come with me. I know what to do." Was all she said before dragging me inside Aphrodite's cabin and leaving Will there. Alone. The Aphrodite's cabin was a pink 'Barbie House'! My worst nightmare! It had a pink door, lace curtains and potted carnations by the window. The inside of the cabin smelled heavily of perfume. The inner walls were pink with white window trim. There were pastel blue and green curtains, as well as beds. Every person had a chest with their name painted on it to store their belongings. Their personal bunk spaces were decorated with famous and attractive Hollywood movie stars and singers, and with pictures of their family members too.

She made me sit in one of the many chairs near a really big mirror. She told me to stay where I was, so she could get the needed items. I saw her get in the bathroom and come back with a wet towel and so many make up items, it made me shudder.

"Thank you Silena, but I better go. I don't want to bother you with my problems." I made a move to sit up, but she grabbed my arm and made me sit down. _Again_.

"Oh, come on. I can help you. You've got no idea how many times I've dealt with this." She assured me.

 **Trust the girl. She knows what to do.**

 _I've got no clue why I'm doing this._

"Fine," I said and smiled.

* * *

It was a good thing I trusted Silena. In less than an hour she had turned my hair in its usual color ( "Black definitely suits you better than pink.") and my face was make up- free.

You should've seen Travis's face when he saw me on a normal state. Serves him right. Humph!

After that Connor and I formed a temporary alliance and pulled some _harmless_ pranks on Travis, who gave us some gifts as well. In a few days everybody in the cabin was begging us to stop, which we gladly did. Now you could say that we had formed the one and only Troublesome Trio, as everyone liked to call us.

 **The one and only? Troublesome Trio? How much dramatic is that?**

 _I try._

Soo, anyways, I had fallen in a routine. Each morning I took Ancient Greek from Annabeth, and we talked about the gods and goddesses in the present tense, which was kind of weird. I discovered Annabeth was right about my dyslexia: Ancient Greek wasn't that hard for me to read. Actually, it wasn't hard at all. After a couple of mornings, I could read a whole paragraph of Homer without too much headache, which is saying something.

The rest of the day, I'd rotate through outdoor activities, looking for something I was good at. Chiron tried to teach me archery, but we found out pretty quick I wasn't any good with a bow and arrow. He didn't complain, even when he had to desnag a stray arrow out of his tail.

 **Flashback**

 _Chiron and I were walking—well I was walking, he was galloping— to the archery range. It truly was a beautiful day. The sun was shining and the sky was clear, no clouds in sight. I could swear that, if it wasn't for the noise the campers were making, we could've listened to the birds singing. The landscape was so beautiful and alive (if you could call it that) it looked like it was taken from a postcard or something. This was like a version of The Wonderland._

 _Nearly everyone at the range had the same facial features, not to mention the tan skins, (curly) blonde hair and blue eyes—even though in different shades—the slim figures of the girls and the surfer bodies of the boys._

 _The closer we got to the range, the clearer everything was to me. I could make out Will training along with his siblings, holding the bow confidently in his hands and shooting a perfect bulls-eye arrow._

 _When we arrived I introduced myself (as if I hadn't already), to the head of the Apollo Cabin, Lee Fletcher. He said they welcomed me for some practice and that were happy to help me out. I wasn't the normal shy person, but I couldn't help thinking that I would probably make a fool of myself. So yeah, I was a bit nervous._

 _Will must've understood this and came forward, "Hey, Lee." His brother turned to face Will. "I'll teach Cori archery, seeing as I'm the only one here that knows her." Lee only nodded and I shot Will a grateful look._

 _Firstly, we found a bow my size. Then, Will demonstrated. "Now you have to_ _place your feet shoulder-width apart so that your two feet form a straight line pointing towards the target." He did said things and then fixed the arrow. "You have to aim for the bulls-eye, stay still and . . . shoot." Of course his shot was perfect. "Now you try," he demanded._

 _I did all the things Will said and tried to aim the arrow. Key word: Tried. Will noticed this and came nearer. I felt his warm breath on my neck, "That's not the position I told you." He fixed the way I held my arms and told me to concentrate. After that he left._

 _I took a deep breath. My hands wouldn't stop shaking. What the hell is happening? I aimed for bulls-eye. I closed my eyes and let the arrow fly. But then something happened. It's like the bow completely turned around and the arrow was shot backwards, straight into Chiron's tail._

 _"How— Is that even possible?" Will asked, his jaw touching the ground._

 _"No more archery for you," Lee Fletcher said._

 _"Agreed."_

 **Flashback ends.**

So yeah, no more archery for me.

Cheers!

Foot racing? No good either. The wood-nymph instructors left me in the dust. They told me not to worry about it. They'd had centuries of practice running away from lovesick gods. But still, it was a little humiliating to be slower than a tree.

 **Just a little?**

 _Yes. Posies, running isn't my strongest point._

 **Right.**

And wrestling? Forget it. Every time I got on the mat— I will probably deny this later— Clarisse would pulverize me.

"There's more where that came from, punk, " she'd mumble in my ear.

The only thing I really excelled at was canoeing, and, in my opinion, that wasn't the kind of heroic skill people expected to see from the kid who had beaten the Minotaur. I still don't know how I did that.

I knew the senior campers and counselors were watching me, trying to decide who my dad was, but they weren't having an easy time of it. I wasn't as strong as the Ares kids, or as good at archery as the Apollo kids.

 **Understatement of the century.**

 _I know, I know. I suck at archery._

 **You suck? You fired an arrow backwards straight in Chiron's butt!**

 _Okay. I more than suck at archery. Happy?_

 **Nope! Just stating the truth.**

I didn't have Hephaestus's skill with metalwork or—gods forbid— Dionysus's way with vine plants. Luke told me I might be a child of Hermes, a kind of jack-of-all-trades, master of none. But I knew he was just trying to make me feel better. I might be good with pranking and things like that, but it was obvious I wasn't a child of Hermes. I didn't even look like one! I was 99.9% sure he really didn't know what to make of me either.

Despite all that, I liked camp. I got used to the morning fog over the beach, the smell of hot strawberry fields in the afternoon, the visits to Hestia that always seemed to cheer me up, even the weird noises of monsters in the woods at night. I would eat dinner with cabin eleven, scrape part of my meal into the fire for Hermes and Hestia. Funny thing I never did that for my dad. If he'd claim me, he would do it because he wants to do it, not because some offerings. Still, nothing came. Just that warm feeling I'd always had, like the memory of his smile. I tried not to think too much about my mom, but I kept wondering: if gods and monsters were real, if all this magical stuff was possible, surely there was some way to save her, to bring her back. . .

I started to understand Luke's bitterness and how he seemed to resent his father, Hermes. So okay, maybe gods had important things to do. But couldn't they call once in a while, or thunder, or something? Dionysus could make Diet Coke appear out of thin air. Why couldn't my dad, whoever he was, make a phone appear?

Thursday afternoon, three days after I'd arrived at Camp Half-Blood, I had my first sword-fighting lesson. Everybody from cabin eleven gathered in the big circular arena, where Luke would be our instructor.

We started with basic stabbing and slashing, using some straw-stuffed dummies in Greek armor. I guess I did okay. At least, I understood what I was supposed to do and my reflexes were good. Maybe a bit more than good.

The problem was, I couldn't find a blade that felt right in my hands. Either they were too heavy, or too light, or too long. Luke tried his best to fix me up, but he agreed that none of the practice blades seemed to work for me.

"You should be some kind of a special case," I heard him mutter.

We moved on to dueling in pairs. Luke announced he would be my partner, since this was my first time. I got the feeling that it wasn't the only reason, but I shrugged it off.

"Good luck, " Connor told me. "Luke's the best swordsman in the last three hundred years. "

"Nah, he wouldn't hurt me. What's the worst that could happen?" I asked.

Connor snorted, "Yeah, you could either break a hand or a leg."

"Pah, this is nothing compared to the things I do in my everyday superhero life," I waved my hand dramatically.

Connor snorted, "Still, good luck, though."

Luke showed me thrusts and parries and shield blocks the hard way. With every swipe, I got a little more confident. "Keep your guard up, Cori, " he'd say, then whap me in the ribs with the flat of his blade. "No, not that far up!" Whap! "Lunge!" Whap! "Now, back!" Whap!

By the time he called a break, I was soaked in sweat. Everybody swarmed the drinks cooler. Luke poured ice water on his head, which looked like such a good idea, I did the same.

 **You poured ice water on your head?! What about your hair!**

 _I don't know why you always get so flustered about my appearance._

 **Your appearance is a very important thing.**

 _Yeah, sure._

Instantly, I felt better. Strength surged back into my arms. The sword didn't feel so awkward.

"Okay, everybody circle up!" Luke ordered. "If Cori doesn't mind, I want to give you a little demo. "

 _Great_ , I thought. _Let's all watch Cori get pounded_.

The Hermes guys gathered around. They were suppressing smiles. I figured they'd been in my shoes before and couldn't wait to see how Luke used me for a punching bag. He told everybody he was going to demonstrate a disarming technique: how to twist the enemy's blade with the flat of your own sword so that he had no choice but to drop his weapon.

 _I hope it doesn't go like archery._

"This is difficult, " he stressed. "I've had it used against me. No laughing at Cori, now," he winked. "Most swordsmen have to work years to master this technique. "

He demonstrated the move on me in slow motion. Sure enough, the sword clattered out of my hand.

"Now in real time, " he said, after I'd retrieved my weapon. "We keep sparring until one of us pulls it off. Ready, Cori?"

I nodded, and Luke came after me. Somehow, I kept him from getting a shot at the hilt of my sword. My senses opened up. I saw his attacks coming. It was like something inside me had woken up, and had taken control. Not in a bad way. It still felt like me. It's a bit hard to explain. I countered. I stepped forward and tried a thrust of my own. Luke deflected it easily, but I saw a change in his face. His eyes narrowed, and he started to press me with more force.

The sword grew heavy in my hand. The balance wasn't right. I knew it was only a matter of seconds before Luke took me down, so I figured, What the heck?

I tried the disarming maneuver.

I just hoped it didn't end like archery. Who knows what'll happen to Luke?

My blade hit the base of Luke's and I twisted, putting my whole weight into a downward thrust.

Clang.

Luke's sword rattled against the stones. The tip of my blade was an inch from his undefended chest. His eyes widened, mine were staring at his. Then, I glanced at my hands. Did I really do that?

 **No, duh!**

The other campers were silent.

I lowered my sword, "The Hades?"

For a moment, Luke was too stunned to speak. His scarred face broke into a grin. "By the gods, Cori, how did you do that? Show me again!"

I didn't want to. The short burst of manic energy had completely abandoned me. But Luke insisted. His face was so hopeful. . . I felt a little bit bad. So, yeah, I tried to do it again.

This time, there was no contest. The moment our swords connected, Luke hit my hilt and sent my weapon skidding across the floor.

After a long pause, somebody in the audience said, "Beginner's luck?"

Luke wiped the sweat off his brow. He appraised at me with an entirely new interest. "Maybe, " he said. "But I wonder what Cori could do with a balanced sword. . . "

* * *

Friday afternoon, I was sitting with Grover at the lake, resting from a near-death experience on the climbing wall. Grover had scampered to the top like a mountain goat, but the lava had almost gotten me. The hairs had been singed off my forearms. I had just changed into another shirt. My other one had smoking holes in it and you could practically see my bra.

We sat on the pier, watching the naiads do underwater basket-weaving, until I got up the nerve to ask Grover how his conversation had gone with Mr. D.

His face turned a sickly shade of yellow.

"Fine, " he said. "Just great. "

"Grover, I'm your best friend. You can tell me." I assured him.

He sighted. He told me that there was something called the searcher's license (which I didn't quite understand. I only nodded) and that with failing bringing me here conscious he had nearly lost the chance to get it. Grover looked down at the naiads. "Mr. D suspended judgment. He said I hadn't failed or succeeded with you yet, so our fates were still tied together. If you got a quest and I went along to protect you, and we both came back alive, then maybe he'd consider the job complete. "

My spirits lifted. "Well, that's not so bad, right?" If I was given a quest, I'd surely get this old goat to come with me, complete it and he gets his searcher's license. . . whatever it is.

"Blaa-ha-ha! He might as well have transferred me to stable-cleaning duty. The chances of you getting a quest... And even if you did, why would you want me along?"

I stared at him and then blinked, "Why wouldn't I want you?" Geez, I was trying to reassure him (something I don't do often) and he was just waving it off.

Grover stared glumly into the water. "Basket-weaving ... Must be nice to have a useful skill. "

I tried tell him that he had lots of talents, but that just made him look more miserable. We talked about canoeing and swordplay for a while, then debated the pros and cons of the different gods. Finally, I asked him about the four empty cabins.

"Number eight, the silver one, belongs to Artemis, " he said. "She vowed to be a maiden forever. So of course, no kids. The cabin is, you know, honorary. If she didn't have one, she'd be mad. "

"Yeah, okay. But the other three, the ones at the end. Are those the Big Three?"

Grover tensed. We were getting close to a touchy subject. "No. One of them, number two, is Hera's, " he said. "That's another honorary thing. She's the goddess of marriage, so of course she wouldn't go around having affairs with mortals. That's her husband's job. When we say the Big Three, we mean the three powerful brothers, the sons of Kronos. "

"Zeus, Poseidon, Hades."

"Right. You know. After the great battle with the Titans, they took over the world from their dad and drew lots to decide who got what. "

"Zeus got the sky, " I remembered. "Poseidon the sea, Hades the Underworld." From what else I remembered, Hades was the oldest, so he should've been the King, kind of like a birth right, but on the other hand, Zeus was the one who saved his siblings from their father, so yeah.

"Uh-huh. "

"But Hades doesn't have a cabin here. "

"No. He doesn't have a throne on Olympus, either. He sort of does his own thing down in the Underworld. If he did have a cabin here ... " Grover shuddered. "Well, it wouldn't be pleasant. Let's leave it at that. "

"But Zeus and Poseidon—they both had, like, a bazillion kids in the myths. Why are their cabins empty?"

Grover shifted his hooves uncomfortably. "About sixty years ago, after World War II, the Big Three agreed they wouldn't sire any more heroes. Their children were just too powerful. They were affecting the course of human events too much, causing too much carnage. World War II, you know, that was basically a fight between the sons of Zeus and Poseidon on one side, and the sons of Hades on the other. The winning side, Zeus and Poseidon, made Hades swear an oath with them: no more affairs with mortal women. They all swore on the River Styx. "

"And the brothers kept their word-no kids?" I asked skeptically. I had heard enough stories to understand that some gods couldn't keep it in their pants.

Grover's face darkened. "Seventeen years ago, Zeus fell off the wagon. There was this TV starlet with a big fluffy eighties hairdo-he just couldn't help himself. When their child was born, a little girl named Thalia .. . Well, the River Styx is serious about promises. Zeus himself got off easy because he's immortal, but he brought a terrible fate on his daughter. "

"So what? It wasn't her fault! Just because he's a god doesn't mean that his daughter should suffer for him!" I said angrily.

Thunder boomed.

Grover hesitated. "Cori, children of the Big Three have powers greater than other half-bloods. They have a strong aura, a scent that attracts monsters. When Hades found out about the girl, he wasn't too happy about Zeus breaking his oath. Hades let the worst monsters out of Tartarus to torment Thalia. A satyr was assigned to be her keeper when she was twelve, but there was nothing he could do. He tried to escort her here with a couple of other half-bloods she'd befriended. They almost made it. They got all the way to the top of that hill. " I didn't know why, but I got the feeling that the satyr was Grover.

He pointed across the valley, to the pine tree where I'd fought the minotaur. "All three Kindly Ones were after them, along with a horde of hellhounds. They were about to be overrun when Thalia told her satyr to take the other two half-bloods to safety while she held off the monsters. She was wounded and tired, and she didn't want to live like a hunted animal. The satyr didn't want to leave her, but he couldn't change her mind, and he had to protect the others. So Thalia made her final stand alone, at the top of that hill. As she died, Zeus took pity on her. He turned her into that pine tree. Her spirit still helps protect the borders of the valley. That's why the hill is called Half-Blood Hill. "

I stared at the pine in the distance.

The story made me feel hollow, and guilty too. A girl my age had sacrificed herself to save her friends. She had faced a whole army of monsters. Next to that, my victory over the Minotaur didn't seem like much. I wondered, if I'd acted differently, could I have saved my mother?

"So ... A satyr is always assigned to guard a demigod?"

Grover studied me warily. I hadn't persuaded him that I'd really dropped the Underworld idea. "Not always. We go undercover to a lot of schools. We try to sniff out the half-bloods who have the makings of great heroes. If we find one with a very strong aura, like a child of the Big Three, we alert Chiron. He tries to keep an eye on them, since they could cause really huge problems. "

"And you found me. Chiron said you thought I might be something special. "

Grover looked as if I'd just led him into a trap. "I didn't... Oh, listen, don't think like that. If you were-you know-you'd never ever be allowed a quest, and I'd never get my license. You're probably a child of Hermes.—"

"—Grover, we both know very well that I'm not."

"— Or maybe even one of the minor gods, like Nemesis, the god of revenge. Don't worry, okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Nemesis. My father? Has it ever occurred to you that Nemesis is a she?"

* * *

That night after dinner, there was a lot more excitement than usual.

At last, it was time for capture the flag.

When the plates were cleared away, the conch horn sounded and we all stood at our tables.

Campers yelled and cheered as Annabeth and two of her siblings ran into the pavilion carrying a silk banner. It was about ten feet long, glistening gray, with a painting of a barn owl above an olive tree. From the opposite side of the pavilion, Clarisse and her buddies ran in with another banner, of identical size, but gaudy red, painted with a bloody spear and a boar's head.

I turned to Luke and yelled over the noise, "Those are the flags?"

"Yeah. " he said as he came closer to me.

"Ares and Athena always lead the teams?"

"Not always, " he said. "But often. "

"So, if another cabin captures one, what do you do- repaint the flag?"

He grinned. "You'll see. First we have to get one. "

"Whose side are we on?" I hoped I was with Annabeth. After all— according to her— Athena always had a plan. And since I wasn't the type who went for plans (I do whatever comes first to my mind), I thought I'd need somebody who was.

He gave me a sly look, as if he knew something I didn't. "We've made a temporary alliance with Athena. Tonight, we get the flag from Ares. And you are going to help. "

The teams were announced. Athena had made an alliance with Apollo and Hermes, the two biggest cabins. So Will's in my team too. Apparently, privileges had been traded-shower times, chore schedules, the best slots for activities-in order to win support.

On the other hand, Ares had allied with practically everyone else: Demeter, Hephaestus, Aphrodite and Dionysus. The Demeter kids weren't really aggressive, well maybe not all of them. I'd heard they could be pretty imaginative with plants, and after what Travis said about Katie Gardner. . . well, I better watch out for them. Hephaestus's kids weren't pretty, and there were only four of them, but they were big and burly from working in the metal shop all day. They might be a problem. The Aphrodite's kids usually just stood near the lake and checked out their reflection on the water. All of them except Silena, she was a descent one. From what I'd seen, Dionysus's kids were actually good athletes, but there were only two of them. That, of course, left Ares's cabin: a dozen of the biggest, ugliest, meanest kids on Long Island, or anywhere else on the planet. Who let those animals out of their cage, anyways?

Chiron hammered his hoof on the marble.

"Heroes!" he announced. "You know the rules. The creek is the boundary line. The entire forest is fair game. All magic items are allowed. The banner must be prominently displayed, and have no more than two guards. Prisoners may be disarmed, but may not be bound or gagged. No killing or maiming is allowed. I will serve as referee and battlefield medic. Arm yourselves!"

He spread his hands, and the tables were suddenly covered with equipment: helmets, bronze swords, spears, oxhide shields coated in metal.

"Whoa," I said. "We're really supposed to use these?"

Luke looked at me as if I were crazy. "Unless you want to get skewered by your friends in cabin five. Here—Chiron thought these would fit. You'll be on border patrol."

I only took a sword and a helmet, which like all the helmets on Athena's side, had a blue horsehair plume on top. Ares and their allies had red plumes. "Where's your shield?" Luke asked.

"Didn't take one. It's too heavy. How am I supposed to do anything with that?"

He tossed me a shield, "Protect yourself. After what happened in the bathroom, you really expect that the Ares kids won't come for revenge? They're far too proud."

My shield was the size of an NBA backboard, with a big caduceus in the middle. It weighed about a million pounds. I could have snowboarded on it fine, but I hoped nobody seriously expected me to run fast.

Annabeth yelled, "Blue team, forward!"

We cheered and shook our swords and followed her down the path to the south woods. The red team yelled taunts at us as they headed off toward the north.

I managed to catch up with Annabeth without tripping over my equipment. "Hey. What's the plan? "

"Just watch Clarisse's spear, " she said. "You don't want that thing touching you. Otherwise, don't worry. We'll take the banner from Ares. Has Luke given you your job?"

"Border patrol, whatever that means."

"It's easy. Stand by the creek, keep the reds away."

And with that she marched away.

* * *

It was a warm, sticky night. The woods were dark, with fireflies popping in and out of view. Annabeth stationed me next to a little creek that gurgled over some rocks, then she and the rest of the team scattered into the trees.

Standing there I was on high alert. Seriously, I had just arrived at camp and she expected me to keep away other cabins. And with an unbalanced sword?

Far away, the conch horn blew. I heard whoops and yells in the woods, the clanking of metal, kids fighting. A blue-plumed group from Apollo cabin raced past me like a deer— Will being one of them— leaped through the creek, and disappeared into enemy territory.

 _Great_ , I thought. _I'll miss all the fun, as usual_.

Then I heard a sound that sent a chill up my spine, a low canine growl, somewhere close by.

I raised my shield instinctively; I had the feeling something was stalking me.

Then the growling stopped. I felt the presence retreating.

On the other side of the creek, the underbrush exploded. Five Ares warriors came yelling and screaming out of the dark.

"Cream the punk!" Clarisse screamed.

Her ugly pig eyes glared through the slits of her helmet. She brandished a five-foot-long spear, its barbed metal tip flickering with red light. Her siblings had only the standard-issue bronze swords—not that that made me feel any better.

I managed to sidestep the first kid's swing, but these guys were not as stupid the Minotaur, even though they looked like it. They surrounded me, and Clarisse thrust at me with her spear. My shield deflected the point, but I felt a painful tingling all over my body. My hair stood on end. My shield arm went numb, and the air burned.

Electricity. Her stupid spear was electric. I fell back.

Another Ares guy slammed me in the chest with the butt of his sword and I hit the dirt.

"Give her a haircut, " Clarisse said. "Grab her hair."

"Don't you dare!" I said angrily. My blood started boiling.

Clarisse gave me a hit with her shield again.

"What in Hades do you want?" I shouted.

"You see," one of her siblings said. " we don't care about the flag. We care about a stupid girl who made our cabin look stupid. "

" You do that without my help," I told them. "If that's what you're wondering." It probably wasn't the smartest thing to say.

 **Well, duh!**

Two of them came at me. I backed up toward the creek, tried to raise my shield, but Clarisse was too fast. Her spear stuck me straight in the ribs. If I hadn't been wearing an armored breastplate, I would've been shish-kebabbed. As it was, the electric point just about shocked my teeth out of my mouth. One of her cabinmates slashed his sword across my arm, leaving a good-size cut.

"No maiming," I said.

"Oops," the guy said. "Guess I lost my dessert privilege."

I made a step backwards, but fell in the water because of a tree branch. They all laughed. But then something happened. The water seemed to wake up my senses, as if I'd just had a bag of my mom's double-espresso jelly beans. Now _that's_ what I call strength!

Clarisse and her cabinmates came into the creek to get me, but I stood to meet them. I knew what to do. I swung the flat of my sword against Ugly's Number One head and knocked his helmet clean off. I hit him so hard I could see his eyes vibrating as he crumpled into the water.

Ugly Number Two and Ugly Number Three came at me. I slammed one in the face with my shield and used my sword to shear off the other guy's horsehair plume. Both of them backed up quick. Ugly Number Four didn't look really anxious to attack, but Clarisse kept coming, the point of her spear crackling with energy. As soon as she thrust, I caught the shaft between the edge of my shield and my sword, and I snapped it like a twig.

"Ah!" she screamed. "You idiot! You corpse-breath worm!"

"What are you going to do now Clarisse? Go cry to your daddy?" I asked in a sick tone. I really didn't give her a chance to talk since I smacked her between the eyes with my sword-butt and sent her stumbling backward out of the creek.

Then I heard yelling, elated screams, and I saw Luke racing toward the boundary line with the red team's banner lifted high. He was flanked by a couple of Hermes guys covering his retreat, and a few Apollos behind them, fighting off the Hephaestus kids. The Ares folks got up, and Clarisse muttered a dazed curse.

"A trick!" she shouted. "It was a trick."

They staggered after Luke, but it was too late. Everybody converged on the creek as Luke ran across into friendly territory. Our side exploded into cheers. The red banner shimmered and turned to silver. The boar and spear were replaced with a huge caduceus, the symbol of cabin eleven. Everybody on the blue team picked up Luke and started carrying him around on their shoulders. Chiron cantered out from the woods and blew the conch horn.

The game was over. We'd won.

I was about to join the celebration when Annabeth's voice, right next to me in the creek, said, "Not bad, Cori."

I looked, but she wasn't there.

"Where the heck did you learn to fight like that?" she asked. The air shimmered, and she materialized, holding a Yankees baseball cap as if she'd just taken it off her head.

I felt myself getting angry. I wasn't even fazed by the fact that she'd just been invisible. "You set me up," I said. "You put me here because you knew Clarisse would come after me, while you sent Luke around the flank. You had it all figured out. "

Annabeth shrugged. "I told you. Athena always, always has a plan. "

"A plan to get me killed."

"I came as fast as I could. I was about to jump in, but . . . " She shrugged. "You didn't need help."

Then she noticed my wounded arm. "How in the name of gods did you do that?"

"A sword cut, duh!" I said. Was she blind or something?

"No. It was a sword cut. Look at it. "

The blood was gone. Where the huge cut had been, there was a long white scratch, and even that was fading. As I watched, it turned into a small scar, and disappeared.

Annabeth was thinking hard. I could almost see the gears turning. She looked down at my feet, then at Clarisse's broken spear, and said, "Step out of the water, Cori."

"What—"

"Just do it."

I came out of the creek and immediately felt bone tired. My arms started to go numb again. My adrenaline rush left me. I almost fell over, but Annabeth steadied me.

"Oh, Styx, " she cursed. "This is not good. I didn't want . . . I assumed it would be Zeus. . ."

Before I could ask what she meant, I heard that canine growl again, but much closer than before. A howl ripped through the forest.

The campers' cheering died instantly. Chiron shouted something in Ancient Greek, which I would realize, only later, I had understood perfectly: "Stand ready! My bow!"

Annabeth drew her sword.

There on the rocks just above us was a black hound the size of a rhino, with lava-red eyes and fangs like daggers.

It was looking straight at me.

Nobody moved except Will—who was now surprisingly next to me— and yelled, "Cori, run!"

He tried to step in front of me, but the hound was too fast. It leaped over him—an enormous shadow with teeth—and just as it hit me, as I stumbled backward and felt its razor-sharp claws ripping through my armor, there was a cascade of thwacking sounds, like forty pieces of paper being ripped one after the other. From the hounds neck sprouted a cluster of arrows. The monster fell dead at my feet.

By some miracle, I was still alive. I didn't want to look underneath the ruins of my shredded armor. My chest felt warm and wet, and I knew I was badly cut. Another second, and the monster would've turned me into a hundred pounds of delicatessen meat.

Chiron trotted up next to us, a bow in his hand, his face grim.

"Di immortales!" Will said. "That's a hellhound from the Fields of Punishment. They don't . . . They're not supposed to . . . "

"Someone summoned it, " Chiron said. "Someone inside the camp. "

Luke came over, standing on my other side, ( Will on my right) the banner in his hand forgotten, his moment of glory gone.

Clarisse yelled, "It's all Cori's fault! Cori summoned it!"

"Be quiet, child, " Chiron told her.

We watched the body of the hellhound melt into shadow, soaking into the ground until it disappeared.

"Come on Cori, let's get you to the infirmary," Will caught my arm gently and helped me get up.

"No Will," said Annabeth. "Cori, get in the water."

"Annabeth, she is wounded. Don't you get it?"

"Will, listen to me. I know what I'm saying," she grabbed my hand and led me to the creek. "Chiron, watch this," she said.

Instantly, I felt better. I could feel the cuts on my chest closing up. It was like the water was trying to heal me. No— it wasn't trying to—obviously. It _was_ healing me. Some of the campers gasped.

But they weren't watching my wounds heal. They were staring at something above my head.

"Cori," Annabeth said, pointing. "Um . . ."

By the time I looked up, the sign was already fading, but I could still make out the hologram of green light, spinning and gleaming. A three-tipped spear: a trident.

"Your father," Annabeth murmured. "This is really not good. "

"It is determined," Chiron announced.

All around me, campers started kneeling, even the Ares cabin, though they didn't look happy about it.

At the moment I remembered my conversation with Aunt Hestia.

 **Flashback**

 _"Lady Hestia," I bowed._

 _"You must be Cori Jackson," she said. "There's no need to bow, darling," I got up again. "Do you want to talk to me about something, child?"_

 _I nodded._

 _"Well then, come," she started walking and I followed her to the big house. She kept walking until we came in front of a light brown door with beautiful carvings. The inside was even more beautiful, or. . . well, cozier. The walls were a nice shade of orange, with big white windows and light yellow curtains. There was a wooden bed in one corner and a fireplace in the other. A comfortable sofa with soft light blue cushions were near it. She motioned for me to sit there, which I did, and so did she. Finally, after forever she asked "Do you want some hot chocolate, Cori?"_

 _"Yes," only gods know how much I need one right now._

 _She just snapped her fingers and not only hot chocolate, but some homemade biscuits appeared out of thin air. They tasted just how my mother made them. Perfect._

 _"What burdens you, child?" she asked politely._

 _"My father—do you have any idea who he is?" I asked in a timid voice, not characteristic of me._

 _"I have my ideas, Cori. I'm almost sure I know who he is— but the question is: do you want to know?"_

 _I shrugged and took a sip out of the hot chocolate mug._

 _"Let me rephrase that: Do you want to learn it from me, dear, or your father? Do you want to be claimed by him or do you want me to tell you right away?" she asked, her fiery golden eyes boring into mine. I ate a biscuit._

 _"I. . . I want to learn it from my father. If. . . If he wants me, then he'll claim me nonetheless."_

 _"Why wouldn't he want you?" she asked me. "He should be proud to have a daughter like you." Aww, she was so kind!_

 _"I don't really think he cares that much about me. Since I was a little I have seen my mother struggle to make a living for me, have two jobs at a time just to raise me happy," my voice was bitter, so was I. "Then, she married Gabe, who can't have a stable job, smells worse than garbage, gambles the little money we have and makes our lives a living hell," I wiped away a tear that had started to fall on my cheek. "How many times I've prayed to meet my father one day, so he could marry my mother and we could be a happy family," I was sobbing by now. "When I was eight I had accepted that my father was dead and we were stuck with Smelly Baboon, but now. Now I learn that my father is an all-powerful god, and. . . and he couldn't do anything for us. I feel like. . . like he doesn't want us. . . like he doesn't want me." I was fully crying, my head in between my knees._

 _"Come here," said Hestia as she gave me a hug and let me tell you this: She gave the best hugs in world. "You should understand, that gods, even though powerful, are controlled by the ancient laws. One of these laws is to not interfere directly with their demigod children. As much as it pains them, they must respect it."_

 _"I. . . I understand," I truly did. Now I understood why my father hadn't helped me, why he hadn't been there for me. I felt a bit stupid of not thinking of it before._

 _"Are you better now, honey?" she asked concerned._

 _I put a smile, "Yes, and thank you Aunt Hestia," I said as I got up. "I should go now. Dinner time."_

 **Flashback ends.**

"Poseidon, " said Chiron. "Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Cordelia Jackson, The First and Only Daughter of the Sea God. "

I fainted.

 **So yeah, it happened. She got claimed yada, yada, yada.**

 **Many flashbacks this chapter, huh? Well, yes. I had planned all along the flashback with Hestia. I thought it would make it more dramatic if I put it here. While the one in the archery range. . . I honestly never thought of it but it developed beautifully.**

 **Please review, you have NO idea how much it means to me. Don't feel afraid to point out errors, I will correct them all.**

 **~ Mel ~**


	8. I am offered a quest

**_Cori Jackson and the Lightning Thief_**

 ** _Disclaimer: I own nothing. Rick is a lucky man._**

 ** _Chapter 8: I'm offered a quest._**

 ** _Enjoy!_**

* * *

The next morning I woke up with a big headache in the infirmary. According to Chiron, yesterday's news was unexpected and . . . some other stuff. I tuned him out because of my ADHD. Totally not my fault! But the result was clear: I fainted.

The Hades?!

Where was my fainting couch?

After a check-out from Will. . . okay, this sounds horribly wrong. . .

 **It does indeed. Even though I think he wouldn't mind.**

 _And I thought I'd get a day free from you._

 **Oh, come on. Don't tell me our small talks mean so little to you.**

 _They do._

Try again: After Will checked me out. . . still wrong. Ahem! Will checked my temperature, and after he did some _other doctor stuff_ (See? I knew I could do it), they finally released me from the infirmary.

I moved to cabin three.

The inside was simple; six bunk beds, sea-green walls that matched my eyes and glowed like abalone and a small bathroom. With my luck, I didn't have to share with anybody. No annoying little brothers or sisters. I was a bit disappointed. I had plenty of room for all my stuff: the Minotaur's horn, some sets of spare clothes ( Silena gave me shorts and shirts, fashionable of course ), and a toiletry bag. I got to sit at my own dinner table( I had started to burn offerings to father [ I couldn't call him dad, at least, not yet] except Hermes and Hestia), pick all my own activities, call "lights out" whenever I felt like it, and not listen to anybody else.

And I absolutely hated it.

Screw the oath and the super-powerful Big Three mortal offspring, I wanted someone to talk to. Is a little brother so much to ask for? No.

Well, maybe I was asking a bit too much. I had some friends— true friends— here and there. Will, Sarah, Travis, Connor and Silena were the only ones who were not looking me like I had some kind of a rare disease. I had seen their attempts to make their siblings talk to me, but they all failed miserably. I was a bit sad that Annabeth wasn't speaking to me (except ancient Greek lessons)— wait, what? No, scratch that. I'm not feeling sad, I'm feeling betrayed. At first she behaved like she was my friend, but as soon as she figured I might not be her ticket out of here, she started being cold. Even Luke wasn't speaking to me a lot, like he was a bit biased from his siblings' and Annabeth's actions. Screw them! Seriously, it's not like I'm a bomb and I'm going to explode right here, right now!

Nobody mentioned the hellhound, but I knew they were all talking about it behind my back. The attack had scared everybody. It sent two messages:

A) that I was the first daughter of the Sea God ( yeah, I asked Chiron and he told me that I was my father's first daughter, thus making me special).

B) monsters would stop at nothing to kill me. They could even invade a camp that had always been considered safe.

The other campers steered clear of me as much as possible. Cabin eleven was too nervous to have sword class with me after what I'd done to the Ares folks in the woods, so my lessons with Luke became one-on-one. He pushed me harder than ever, and wasn't afraid to bruise me up in the process.

"You're going to need all the training you can get, " he promised, as we were working with swords and flaming torches. "Now let's try that viper-beheading strike again. Fifty more repetitions."

Annabeth still taught me Greek in the mornings, but she seemed distracted. Every time I said something, she scowled at me, as if I'd just poked her between the eyes. The nerve of that girl!

After lessons, she would walk away muttering to herself: "Quest . . . Poseidon? . . . Dirty rotten . . . Got to make a plan . . ."

Even Clarisse kept her distance, though her venomous looks made it clear she wanted to kill me for breaking her magic spear. _Who cares,_ I thought. _She should've thought twice before attacking me. Serves her right!_

I knew somebody at camp resented me ( _cough_ Clarisse _cough_ ), because one night I came into my cabin and found a mortal newspaper dropped inside the doorway, a copy of the New York Daily News, opened to the Metro page. The article took me almost an hour to read, because the angrier I got ( I accidentally burst the water toilet from my cabin's bathroom), the more the words floated around on the page.

 ** _GIRL AND MOTHER STILL MISSING AFTER_**

 ** _FREAK CAR ACCIDENT_**

 ** _BY EILEEN SMYTHE_**

 _Sally Jackson and daughter Cordelia_ ( they had used my full name. . . when I get my hands on them. . . ) _are still missing one week after their mysterious disappearance. The family's badly burned '78 Camaro was discovered last Saturday on a north Long Island road with the roof ripped off and the front axle broken. The car had flipped and skidded for several hundred feet before exploding._ (For more information call my dearest uncle. You might be lucky and escape with only _one_ lightning bolt in the face)

 _Mother and daughter had gone for a weekend vacation to Montauk, but left hastily, under mysterious circumstances._ (More like: a monster was on our trail. Excuse us for not calling the police, we didn't know you had some celestial bronze weapons in your hands. We feel terribly sorry. Not!) _Small traces of blood were found in the car and near the scene of the wreck, but there were no other signs of the missing Jacksons. Residents in the rural area reported seeing nothing unusual around the time of the accident._

 _Ms. Jackson's husband, Gabe Ugliano, claims that his stepdaughter, Cordelia Jackson, is a troubled child who has been kicked out of numerous boarding schools and has expressed violent tendencies in the past._ (I feel proud of myself!)

 _Police would not say whether daughter Cordelia is a suspect in her mother's disappearance, but they have not ruled out foul play. Below are recent pictures of Sally Jackson and Cori. Police urge anyone with information to call the following toll-free crime-stoppers hotline._

 **The phone number was circled in black marker.**

I wadded up the paper and threw it away, then flopped down in my bunk bed in the middle of my empty cabin.

"Lights out, " I told myself miserably.

That night, I had my worst dream yet. Gotta get used to them, huh?

* * *

 _I was running along the beach in a storm. This time, there was a city behind me. Not New York. The sprawl was different: buildings spread farther apart, palm trees and low hills in the distance._

 _About a hundred yards down the surf, two men were fighting. They looked like some kind of TV wrestlers, muscular, with beards and long hair. Both wore flowing Greek tunics, one trimmed in blue, the other in green. They grappled with each other, wrestled, kicked and head-butted, and every time they connected, lightning flashed, the sky grew darker, the wind rose, the sea was more aggressive._

 _I had to stop them. I didn't know why. I just did. But the harder I ran, the more the wind blew me back, until I was running in place, my heels digging uselessly in the sand. Stupid sand!_

 _Stupider wind!_

 _Over the roar of the storm, I could hear the blue-robed one yelling at the green-robed one, 'Give it back! Give it back!' Like a kindergartner fighting over a toy._

 _While the other one— the green-robed one— screamed , ' I don't have your electric toddler of a weapon!'_

 _The waves got bigger, crashing into the beach, spraying me with salt._

 _I yelled, 'Stop it! Stop fighting!' I wanted to add 'You morons' too but decided against it._

 _The ground shook. Laughter came from somewhere under the earth, and a voice so deep and evil it turned my blood to ice._

 _'_ _Come down, little hero,' the voice crooned. 'Come down!'_

 _The sand split beneath me, opening up a crevice straight down to the center of the earth. My feet slipped, and darkness swallowed me._

* * *

I woke up, sure I was falling.

I was still in bed in cabin three. My body told me it was morning, but it was dark outside, and thunder rolled across the hills. A storm was brewing. I hadn't dreamed that.

I heard a clopping sound at the door, a hoof knocking on the threshold.

"Come in?"

Grover trotted inside, looking worried. "Mr. D wants to see you."

"Why?" I had the smallest idea of what he was talking about, but I seriously hoped I was wrong.

"He wants to kill – err, tell. . . I mean, I'd better let him tell you. " Grover sounded really nervous.

I got dressed and followed, sure that I was in huge trouble.

For days, I'd been half expecting a summons to the Big House. Now that I was declared a daughter of Poseidon, one of the Big Three gods who weren't supposed to have kids, I figured it was a crime for me just to be alive. I wasn't supposed to exist. The other gods had probably been debating the best way to punish me for being alive, and now Mr. D was ready to deliver their verdict. _Peachy_.

Over Long Island Sound, the sky looked like ink soup coming to a boil. A hazy curtain of rain was coming in our direction. I asked Grover if we needed an umbrella.

"No, " he said. "It never rains here unless we want it to. "

I realized he was right. In the week I'd been here, it had never even been overcast. The few rain clouds I'd seen had skirted right around the edges of the valley.

But this storm . . . This one was huge.

In the volleyball pit, the kids from Apollo's cabin were playing a morning game against the satyrs. Dionysus's twins were walking around in the strawberry fields, making the plants grow. Everybody was going about their normal business, but they looked tense. They kept their eyes on the storm.

Grover and I walked up to the front porch of the Big House. Dionysus sat at the pinochle table in his tiger-striped Hawaiian shirt with his Diet Coke, just as he had on my first day. Chiron sat across the table in his fake wheel-chair. They were playing against invisible opponents—two sets of cards hovering in the air.

"Well, well, " Mr. D said without looking up. "Our little celebrity. "

I glared at him, not blinking or breaking eye contact.

"Come closer, " Mr. D said. "And don't expect me to kowtow to you, mortal, just because old Barnacle-Beard is your father. "

A net of lightning flashed across the clouds. Thunder shook the windows of the house.

"Blah, blah, blah, " Dionysus said.

Chiron feigned interest in his pinochle cards. Grover cowered by the railing, his hooves clopping back and forth.

"If I had my way, " Dionysus said, "I would cause your molecules to erupt in flames. We'd sweep up the ashes and be done with a lot of trouble. But Chiron seems to feel this would be against my mission at this cursed camp: to keep you little brats safe from harm. "

How . . . reassuring.

"Spontaneous combustion is a form of harm, Mr. D," Chiron put in.

Well. . . at least I have Chiron on my side?

"Nonsense," Dionysus said. "Girl wouldn't feel a thing. Nevertheless, I've agreed to restrain myself I'm thinking of turning you into a dolphin instead, sending you back to your father. "

I stayed silent, looking at him deadly in the eye.

He ignored me. The prat.

"Mr. D—" Chiron warned.

"Oh, all right," Dionysus relented. "There's one more option. But it's deadly foolishness." Dionysus rose, and the invisible players' cards dropped to the table. "I'm off to Olympus for the emergency meeting. If the girl is still here when I get back, I'll turn him into an Atlantic bottlenose. Do you understand? And Cordelia Jackson, if you're at all smart, you'll see that's a much more sensible choice than what Chiron feels you must do. "

Dionysus picked up a playing card, twisted it, and it became a plastic rectangle. A credit card? No. A security pass. He snapped his fingers.

The air seemed to fold and bend around him. He became a hologram, then a wind, then he was gone, leaving only the smell of fresh-pressed grapes lingering behind.

Chiron smiled at me, but he looked tired and strained. "Sit, Cori, please. And Grover."

We did.

Chiron laid his cards on the table, a winning hand he hadn't gotten to use.

"Tell me, Cori, " he said. "What did you make of the hellhound?"

Just hearing the name made me shudder.

Chiron probably wanted me to say, _Pshh, it was nothing. I eat hellhounds for breakfast._ But I didn't feel like lying.

"If you hadn't shot it, I'd be dead," I said truthfully.

"You'll meet worse, Cori. Far worse, before you're done."

"What am I going to do then?" I tried to sound calm.

"The gods have offered you a quest. Are you willing to accept it?" he asked.

"What's it about?" I asked, sitting straighter. A quest was a serious matter.

Chiron grimaced. "Well, that's the hard part, the details."

I remembered my recent dreams: the dudes in the blue and green tunics. Fighting. Over something. Then, there's the one with the animals, the white horse and the eagle, fighting too. From my lessons I came to realize that the horse is Poseidon's— my father's sacred animal and the eagle is Zeus's. Arguing much?

"My father and Zeus are fighting over something valuable, aren't they? Something was stolen," Chiron and Grover exchanged looks.

Chiron sat forward in his wheelchair. "How did you know that?"

My face felt hot. I wished I hadn't opened my big mouth. "The weather since Christmas has been weird, like the sea and the sky are fighting. Then I talked to Annabeth, and she'd overheard something about a theft. And ... I've also been having these dreams. "

"I knew it, " Grover said.

"Hush, satyr, " Chiron ordered.

"But it is his quest!" Grover's eyes were bright with excitement. "It must be!"

"Only the Oracle can determine." Chiron stroked his bristly beard. "Nevertheless, Cori, you are correct. Your father and Zeus are having their worst quarrel in centuries. Something was stolen." He paused for a minute looking at me i the eye.

I squeezed my memory; I remembered that the one in the green tunic had mentioned something about an electric teddy bear, a weapon.

Electric. . . Weapon. . . Zeus. . .

 _Crap, I'm screwed._

"No, you're kidding," I said, my eyes wide. "Zeus's lightning bolt? Stolen?" How can he loose a weapon that powerful?

"Yes, yes. Zeus's weapon of power has been stolen."

"And I still don't know why I'm here," I narrowed my eyes. "Okay, I get it. The most powerful weapon I the universe is missing— stolen. But, mind enlightening me Chiron, what do _I_ have to do with this?"

"Lord Zeus believes that it was you stole it—" he started.

"I WHAT?" I yelled. I am a prankster— yes—but a thief? That I am certainly not!

"At least"-Chiron held up a hand-"that's what Zeus thinks. During the winter solstice, at the last council of the gods, Zeus and Poseidon had an argument. The usual nonsense: 'Mother Rhea always liked you best, ' 'Air disasters are more spectacular than sea disasters, ' et cetera. Afterward, Zeus realized his master bolt was missing, taken from the throne room under his very nose. He immediately blamed Poseidon. Now, a god cannot usurp another god's symbol of power directly—that is forbidden by the most ancient of divine laws. But Zeus believes your father convinced a human hero to take it. "

"And that human hero happens to be me, huh?" I said in a calm, dangerous tone. Oh, was I angry.

"Patience and listen, child, " Chiron said. "Zeus has good reason to be suspicious. The forges of the Cyclopes are under the ocean, which gives Poseidon some influence over the makers of his brother's lightning. Zeus believes Poseidon has taken the master bolt, and is now secretly having the Cyclopes build an arsenal of illegal copies, which might be used to topple Zeus from his throne. The only thing Zeus wasn't sure about was which hero Poseidon used to steal the bolt. Now Poseidon has openly claimed you, " he stopped for a minute pointing at me. "as his daughter. His _first_ daughter, which makes you more powerful. You were in New York over the winter holidays. You could easily have snuck into Olympus. Zeus believes he has found his thief."

"But I've never even been to Olympus! Zeus is crazy!"

Chiron and Grover glanced nervously at the sky. The clouds didn't seem to be parting around us, as Grover had promised. They were rolling straight over our valley, sealing us in like a coffin lid.

"Err, Cori . . . ?" Grover said. "We don't use the c-word to describe the Lord of the Sky."

"After framing me for something I haven't done, I can call him whatever I want," I snapped. Just because King Asshole can't find his little thief, doesn't mean he can blame whoever he wants.

"Perhaps paranoid," Chiron suggested. "Then again, Poseidon has tried to unseat Zeus before. I believe that was question thirty-eight on your final exam. . . ." He looked at me as if he actually expected me to remember question thirty-eight.

Instead, I stared at him dumbfounded.

It had passed a month since the test! I'm not a robot!

Chiron was waiting for an answer.

So I did the only thing that came in my mind: I guessed.

"Something about a golden net?" I hoped I was right. "Poseidon, Hera, Athena and a few other gods . . . They, like, trapped Zeus and wouldn't let him out until he promised to be a better ruler, right?"

"Correct," Chiron said. "And Zeus has never trusted Poseidon since. Of course, Poseidon denies stealing the master bolt. He took great offense at the accusation. The two have been arguing back and forth for months, threatening war. And now, you've come along—the proverbial last straw. "

Seriously, immortals were weird.

"And how the hell does he think I could've done that?"

"Cori, " Grover cut in, "if you were Zeus, and you already thought your brother was plotting to overthrow you, then your brother suddenly admitted he had broken the sacred oath he took after World War II, that he's fathered a new mortal hero who might be used as a weapon against you. . . . Wouldn't that put a twist in your toga?"

 _I don't have a toga_ , I thought. "Did my father steal it?" I pressed.

Chiron sighed. "Most thinking observers would agree that thievery is not Poseidon's style. But the Sea God is too proud to try convincing Zeus of that. Zeus has demanded that Poseidon return the bolt by the summer solstice. That's June twenty-first, ten days from now. Poseidon wants an apology for being called a thief by the same date. I hoped that diplomacy might prevail, that Hera or Demeter or Hestia would make the two brothers see sense. But your arrival has inflamed Zeus's temper. Now neither god will back down. Unless someone intervenes, unless the master bolt is found and returned to Zeus before the solstice, there will be war. And do you know what a full-fledged war would look like, Cori?"

What did he want me to say? Bad? Of course it would be bad! "A catastrophe."

"Imagine the world in chaos. Nature at war with itself. Olympians forced to choose sides between Zeus and Poseidon. Destruction. Carnage. Millions dead. Western civilization turned into a battleground so big it will make the Trojan War look like a water-balloon fight. "

Sooo. . . bad. Really, really bad.

"And you, Cori Jackson, would be the first to feel Zeus's wrath."

Oh, joy!

It started to rain. Volleyball players stopped their game and stared in stunned silence at the sky.

I had brought this storm to Half-Blood Hill. Zeus was punishing the whole camp because of me. I was furious.

"So I have to find the stupid electric stick," I said. "And return it to Zeus." Drama King would be better.

"Do not take this lightly, " Chiron warned. "I'm not talking about some tinfoil-covered zigzag you'd see in a second-grade play. I'm talking about a two-foot-long cylinder of high-grade celestial bronze, capped on both ends with god-level explosives, " he paused for a second. "What better peace offering " Chiron said, "than to have the daughter of Poseidon return Zeus's property?"

"If Poseidon doesn't have it, where is the thing?" Surely I wouldn't accept a quest without not knowing where to go. That was just plain stupid!

"I believe I know." Chiron's expression was grim. "Part of a prophecy I had years ago . . . Well, some of the lines make sense to me, now. But before I can say more, you must officially take up the quest. You must seek the counsel of the Oracle. "

"Why can't you tell me where the bolt is beforehand?"

"Because if I did, you would be too afraid to accept the challenge."

I'm not a wimp! But still, he had a point.

"All right," I said. "It's better than being turned into a dolphin. "

Then it's time you consulted the Oracle, " Chiron said. "Go upstairs, Cori Jackson, to the attic. When you come back down, assuming you're still sane, we will talk more. "

Assuming I'm still sane. . . wow Chiron. You make me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Really.

* * *

Four flights up, the stairs ended under a green trap-door.

I pulled the cord. The door swung down, and a wooden ladder clattered into place.

The warm air from above smelled like mildew and rotten wood and something else . . . A smell I remembered from biology class. Reptiles. The smell of snakes.

Scrunching my nose, I climbed.

The attic was filled with Greek hero junk: armor stands covered in cobwebs; once-bright shields pitted with rust; old leather steamer trunks plastered with stickers saying ITHAKA, CIRCE'S ISLE, and LAND OF THE AMAZONS. One long table was stacked with glass jars filled with pickled things-severed hairy claws, huge yellow eyes, various other parts of monsters. A dusty mounted trophy on the wall looked like a giant snake's head, but with horns and a full set of shark's teeth. The plaque read, HYDRA HEAD #1, WOODSTOCK, N. Y. , 1969.

By the window, sitting on a wooden tripod stool, was the most gruesome memento of all: a mummy. Not the wrapped-in-cloth kind, but a human female body shriveled to a husk. She wore a tie-dyed sundress, lots of beaded necklaces, and a headband over long black hair. The skin of her face was thin and leathery over her skull, and her eyes were glassy white slits, as if the real eyes had been replaced by marbles; she'd been dead a long, long time.

Welcome to the attic!

She sat up on her stool and opened her mouth. A green mist poured from the mummy's mouth, coiling over the floor in thick tendrils, hissing like twenty thousand snakes. I stumbled over myself trying to get to the trap-door, but it slammed shut. Inside my head, I heard a voice, slithering into one ear and coiling around my brain: _I am the spirit of Delphi, speaker of the prophecies of Phoebus Apollo, slayer of the mighty Python. Approach, seeker, and ask._

I wanted to say, _No thanks, wrong door, just looking for the bathroom_. But I forced myself to take a deep breath.

The mummy wasn't alive. She was some kind of gruesome receptacle for something else, the power that was now swirling around me in the green mist. But its presence didn't feel evil, like my demonic math teacher Mrs. Dodds or the Minotaur. It felt more like the Three Fates I'd seen knitting the yarn outside the highway fruit stand: ancient, powerful, and definitely not human. But not particularly interested in killing me, either. And that's always a plus in my book.

I didn't know how I knew what to say, I just did, "What is my destiny?"

The mist swirled more thickly, collecting right in front of me and around the table with the pickled monster-part jars. Suddenly there were four men sitting around the table, playing cards. Their faces became clearer. It was Smelly Gabe and his buddies.

My fists clenched, though I knew this poker party couldn't be real. It was an illusion, made out of mist.

Gabe turned toward me and spoke in the rasping voice of the Oracle: **You shall go west, and face the god who has turned.**

His buddy on the right looked up and said in the same voice: **You shall find what was stolen, and see it safely returned.**

Well, it's good.

The guy on the left threw in two poker chips, then said: **You shall he betrayed by one who calls you a friend.**

Ouch, I think I jinxed it.

Finally, Eddie, our building super, delivered the worst line of all: **And you shall fail to save what matters most, in the end.**

Yep, jinxed.

The figures began to dissolve. At first I was too stunned to say anything, but as the mist retreated, coiling into a huge green serpent and slithering back into the mouth of the mummy, I cried, "Wait! What do you mean? What friend? What will I fail to save?"

The tail of the mist snake disappeared into the mummy's mouth. She reclined back against the wall. Her mouth closed tight, as if it hadn't been open in a hundred years. The attic was silent again, abandoned, nothing but a room full of mementos.

I got the feeling that I could stand here until I had cobwebs, too, and I wouldn't learn anything else.

"Gee, thanks for making me more confused than I already was. I appreciate it." I rolled my eyes and slammed the door shut.

* * *

"Well?" Chiron asked me.

"That thing's broken. It's spooky. . . and confusing," I retorted. Seriously, have they created the oracle just to confuse us? Not to mention the smell. . . almost worst than Gabe.

Almost.

He sighted, "Prophecies don't always make sense."

I slumped into a chair at the pinochle table. "She said I would retrieve what was stolen."

Grover sat forward, chewing excitedly on the remains of a Diet Coke can. "That's great!"

"What did the Oracle say exactly?" Chiron pressed. "This is important. "

My ears were still tingling from the reptilian voice. "She . . . It said I would go west and face a god who had turned. I would retrieve what was stolen and see it safely returned. "

"I knew it, " Grover said.

Chiron didn't look satisfied. "Anything else?"

I didn't want to tell him. Who can blame me? You shall be betrayed by one who calls you a friend. I couldn't imagine any of my friends here betraying me. What was I supposed to do?

And the last line—I would fail to save what mattered most. What kind of Oracle would send me on a quest and tell me, _Oh, by the way, you'll fail. It was good doing business with you._

"Nope," I said. "That's all."

He studied my face. "Very well, Cori. But know this: the Oracle's words often have double meanings. Don't dwell on them too much. The truth is not always clear until events come to pass. "

Yep, he knew I wasn't telling the truth. The old horse must've had some practice during the centuries to know when someone was lying, but it was obvious he didn't want to push me too hard and I was grateful for that.

"So let's get to the first line: You shall go west and face the god who has turned."

"Ah, think, Cori, " Chiron said. "If Zeus and Poseidon weaken each other in a war, who stands to gain?"

"Somebody else who wants to take over?" I guessed. I didn't like where this was leading. I had the tiniest hint, but I hoped I was wrong. It started with an H. . .

"Yes, quite. Someone who harbors a grudge, who has been unhappy with his lot since the world was divided eons ago, whose kingdom would grow powerful with the deaths of millions. Someone who hates his brothers for forcing him into an oath to have no more children, an oath that both of them have now broken. "

"My uncle," I answered. " and I'm not talking for the one who lost his weapon."

Chiron nodded. "The Lord of the Dead is the only possibility. "

A scrap of aluminum dribbled out of Grover's mouth. "Whoa, wait. Wh—what?"

"A Fury came after Cori, " Chiron reminded him. "She watched the young girl until she was sure of her identity, then tried to kill her. Furies obey only one lord: Hades. "

So, my uncles was after me. The two of them. How nice! Looking after me! I should thank them one day. Really.

Please notice the sarcasm.

"Yes, but—but Hades hates all heroes, " Grover protested. "Especially if he has found out Cori is a daughter of Poseidon. . ."

"A hellhound got into the forest, " Chiron continued. "Those can only be summoned from the Fields of Punishment, and it had to be summoned by someone within the camp. Hades must have a spy here. He must suspect Poseidon will try to use Cori to clear his name. Hades would very much like to kill this young half-blood before she can take on the quest. "

"But a quest to . . . " Grover swallowed. "I mean, couldn't the master bolt be in some place like Maine? Maine's very nice this time of year. "

"Hades sent a minion to steal the master bolt, " Chiron insisted. "He hid it in the Underworld, knowing full well that Zeus would blame Poseidon. I don't pretend to understand the Lord of the Dead's motives perfectly, or why he chose this time to start a war, but one thing is certain. Cori must go to the Underworld, find the master bolt, and reveal the truth. "

"I don't have a choice at all, do I?" I muttered to myself.

A strange fire burned in my stomach. The weirdest thing was: it wasn't fear. It was anticipation. The desire for revenge. Hades had tried to kill me three times so far, with the Fury, the Minotaur, and the hellhound. It was his fault my mother had disappeared in a flash of light. Now he was trying to frame me and my dad for a theft we hadn't committed.

I was ready to take him on.

Besides, if my mother was in the Underworld. . .

Grover was trembling. He'd started eating pinochle cards like potato chips.

The poor guy needed to complete a quest with me so he could get his searcher's license, whatever that was, but how could I ask him to do this quest, especially when the Oracle said I was destined to fail? This was suicide.

"Look, if we know it's Hades, " I told Chiron, "why can't we just tell the other gods? Zeus or Poseidon could go down to the Underworld and bust some heads. "

"Suspecting and knowing are not the same, " Chiron said. "Besides, even if the other gods suspect Hades— and I imagine Poseidon does—they couldn't retrieve the bolt them-selves. Gods cannot cross each other's territories except by invitation. That is another ancient rule. Heroes, on the other hand, have certain privileges. They can go anywhere, challenge anyone, as long as they're bold enough and strong enough to do it. No god can be held responsible for a hero's actions. Why do you think the gods always operate through humans?"

"You're saying I'm being used. "

"I'm saying it's no accident Poseidon has claimed you now. It's a very risky gamble, but he's in a desperate situation. He needs you. "

My dad needs me.

Emotions rolled around inside me like bits of glass in a kaleidoscope. I didn't know whether to feel resentful or grateful or happy or angry. Poseidon had ignored me for twelve years. Now suddenly he needed me.

I looked at Chiron. "You've known I was Poseidon's daughter all along, haven't you?"

"I had my suspicions. As I said . . . I've spoken to the Oracle, too. "

I got the feeling there was a lot he wasn't telling me about his prophecy, but I decided I couldn't worry about that right now.

After all, I was holding back information too.

"So let me get this straight, " I said. "I'm supposed go to the Underworld and confront my uncle—the Lord of the Dead. "

"Check, " Chiron said.

"Find the most powerful weapon in the universe. "

"Check. "

"And get it back to Olympus before the summer solstice, in ten days. "

"That's about right."

Anyone seen mission impossible?

I looked at Grover, who gulped down the ace of hearts.

"Did I mention that Maine is very nice this time of year?" he asked weakly.

"You don't have to go, " I told him. "I can't ask that of you.

"Oh . . . " He shifted his hooves. "No . . . It's just that satyrs and underground places . . . Well . . . "

He took a deep breath, then stood, brushing the shredded cards and aluminum bits off his T-shirt. "You saved my life, Cori. If . . . If you're serious about wanting me along, I won't let you down. "

I felt so relieved I wanted to hug him, though I didn't think that would be very heroic. Grover was the only friend I'd ever had for longer than a few months. I wasn't sure what good a satyr could do against the forces of the dead, but I felt better knowing he'd be with me.

"All the way, G-man. " I turned to Chiron. "So where do we go? The Oracle just said to go west. "

"The entrance to the Underworld is always in the west. It moves from age to age, just like Olympus. Right now, of course, it's in America. "

"Where?" I asked bluntly.

Chiron looked surprised. "I thought that would be obvious enough. The entrance to the Underworld is in Los Angeles."

"Kay, " I said. "Naturally. So we just get on a plane—"

"No!" Grover shrieked. "Cori, what are you thinking? Have you ever been on a plane in your life?"

I shook my head. My mom had never taken me anywhere by plane. She'd always said we didn't have the money. Besides, her parents had died in a plane crash.

"Cori, think, " Chiron said. "You are the daughter of the Sea God. Your father's bitterest rival is Zeus, Lord of the Sky. Your mother knew better than to trust you in an airplane. You would be in Zeus's domain. You would never come down again alive. "

Overhead, lightning crackled. Thunder boomed.

"Okay, " I said, determined not to look at the storm. "So, I'll travel overland."

"That's right, " Chiron said. "Three companions may accompany you. Grover is one." **(A/N: I know there should be three members on a quest, but for the sake of the story…)**

I thought for a second, which people might I choose.

Luke had already gone on a quest and had gotten a scar as a reminder. If things didn't go that well in this one. . . well, I didn't want anything happening to him.

The Stolls? They were my friends, but they didn't seem like the best people to bring on a quest, and now that I'm thinking of it I'd never seen them serious before, I couldn't imagine them being there.

Sarah was nice, but she had arrived only two months ago. She didn't have the proper training, nor did I for that matter. I didn't want to drag her with me. It would be suicide.

Silena was a daughter of Aphrodite and from what I'd heard, they weren't much of a help when it came to quests. But Silena had proved me wrong; she was a decent fighter and a very good friend. Still, she had told me that this summer she had gotten permission from Chiron to leave a bit early so that she could spend more time with her ill father. He had cancer. I would be a monster if I took her on this quest and she never made it out alive.

 **What about Will?**

 _Hey, you're right for once._

 **For once?**

 _Yes, for once._

 **We'll see about that. Until next time, I want to see some progress done with pretty boy.**

Will was a good option. He had been here for three years, so I guess he knew how to fight well. He was also decent with a bow and arrows, was a year rounder, even though I didn't know much about his family. He was a funny guy, but could be serious when needed. I could choose him, and if he turned down the offer, I could always ask someone else.

"I. . . I was thinking about Will," I said sincerely.

"Ah, good choice. His healing skills could be useful too." He nodded in approval. Healing skills? I forgot about them. "Grover, please, can you go and tell William to come here?"

"Of course, Chiron." He got up and ran to the volleyball court.

"So, Cori," Chiron looked at me. "Do you have anyone else in mind?"

"I don't know," I looked down at my feet.

"Well, we have a camper who has volunteered. She will come with in this quest, if you accept her help."

The air shimmered behind Chiron.

Annabeth became visible, stuffing her Yankees cap into her back pocket.

"I've been waiting a long time for a quest, seaweed brain, " she said. "Athena is no fan of Poseidon, but if you're going to save the world, I'm the best person to keep you from messing up. "

"If you do say so yourself, " I said. "I suppose you have a plan, wise girl?"

Her cheeks colored. "Do you want my help or not?"

The truth was, I did. I needed all the help I could get.

Before I could come back with an answer, the door opened, two boys in view. A satyr and a blonde-haired one.

"Did you want to see me Chiron?" Will asked.

"Yes, you see, Will, Cori is offered a quest and she has asked you to accompany her. If you wish, you can be part of it," said Chiron.

He paused for a moment, looking at me, but then his face broke into a grin, "Why not?"

I sighted in relief. I hadn't noticed I was keeping my breath.

"A quartette," I said looking at Grover, Annabeth and Will. "That'll work."

"Excellent, " Chiron said. "This afternoon, we can take you as far as the bus terminal in Manhattan. After that, you are on your own. "

Lightning flashed. Rain poured down on the meadows that were never supposed to have violent weather.

"No time to waste, " Chiron said. "I think you should all get packing. "

* * *

 **And done. So yeah, Cori was offered a quest. Now there is a reason I changed the quest's sacred number from three to four. I could've easily let it three, and taken Will instead of Annabeth. But, Annabeth is a really important character and I don't think anyone can replace her. Who would be the wise one then? Many would say Will, but he is no son of Athena so it didn't sound right. Plus bashing Annabeth . . . I just don't have the heart to do it.**

 **And let me remind you that this is not called fanfiction without a reason. I can make changes.**

 **Did you like the chapter?**

 **Please review, no flames and peace off.**

 **~ Mel ~**


	9. Meeting with the Furies

**_Cori Jackson and the Lightning Thief_**

 ** _Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson_**

 ** _Chapter 9: Meeting with the Furies._**

 ** _Enjoy_**

* * *

Packing didn't really take long. I left the Minotaur horn in my cabin— it's not that I would need it anyways. Plus I've got this tendency of losing things, and after it cost me so much, I wasn't going to take any risks. Grover had given me a backpack in which I stuffed some extra clothes and a bit of food.

The camp store loaned me one hundred dollars in mortal money and twenty golden drachmas. These coins were as big as Girl Scout cookies and had images of various Greek gods stamped on one side and the Empire State Building on the other. The ancient mortal drachmas had been silver, Chiron told us, but Olympians never used less than pure gold. Chiron said the coins might come in handy for non-mortal transactions— or whatever that meant. He gave Annabeth, Will and me each a canteen of nectar and a Ziploc bag full of ambrosia squares, to be used only in emergencies, if we were seriously hurt. It was god food, Chiron reminded us. It would cure us of almost any injury, but it was lethal to mortals. Too much of it would make a half-blood very, very feverish. An overdose would burn us up, literally. Will was the medic in our little group, so he should know the standard dose. At least I hope so.

Annabeth was bringing her magic Yankees cap, which she told me had been a twelfth-birthday present from her mom. She carried a book on famous classical architecture, written in Ancient Greek, to read when she got bored, and a long bronze knife, hidden in her shirt sleeve. I was sure the knife would get us busted the first time we went through a metal detector.

Will was taking his bow and arrows. When I asked him how he was going to hide it from the mortal eyes, he said that it was charmed and became a golden ring. Lucky. I was looking forward to seeing it. He was also bringing his lyre, claiming that he'd play it whenever he got bored.

Grover wore his fake feet and his pants to pass as human. He wore a green Rasta-style cap, because when it rained his curly hair flattened and you could just see the tips of his horns. His bright orange backpack was full of scrap metal and apples to snack on. In his pocket was a set of reed pipes his daddy goat had carved for him, even though he only knew two songs: Mozart's Piano Concerto no. 12 and Hilary Duff's "So Yesterday, " both of which sounded pretty bad on reed pipes.

I said goodbye to all the friends I had made here. I was going to miss them, but this quest was more important. I could be preventing World War 3 here. We waved good-bye to the other campers, took one last look at the strawberry fields, the ocean, and the Big House, then hiked up Half-Blood Hill to the tall pine tree that used to be Thalia, daughter of Zeus.

Chiron was waiting for us in his wheelchair. Next to him stood the surfer dude I'd seen when I was recovering in the sick room. According to Grover, the guy was the camp's head of security. He supposedly had eyes all over his body so he could never be surprised. Today, though, he was wearing a chauffeur's uniform, so I could only see extra peepers on his hands, face and neck.

"This is Argus, " Chiron told me. "He will drive you into the city, and, err, well, keep an eye on things. "

I heard footsteps behind us.

Luke came running up the hill, carrying a pair of basketball shoes.

"Hey!" he panted. "Glad I caught you. "

Annabeth blushed furiously, the way she always did when Luke was around.

"Just wanted to say good luck, " Luke told me. "And I thought . . . Um, maybe you could use these. "

He handed me the sneakers, which looked pretty normal. They even smelled kind of normal.

Luke said, "Maia!"

White bird's wings sprouted out of the heels, startling me so much, I dropped them. The shoes flapped around on the ground until the wings folded up and disappeared.

"Awesome!" Grover said.

Luke smiled. "Those served me well when I was on my quest. Gift from Dad. Of course, I don't use them much these days. . . . " His expression turned sad.

I didn't know what to say. It was cool enough that Luke had come to say good-bye. I'd been afraid he might resent me for getting so much attention the last few days. But here he was giving me a magic gift. . . . It made me blush almost as much as Annabeth, and mind you I'm not the kind of person who blushes a lot. He must've noticed this and smirked a bit.

"Thanks," I said, almost timidly.

"Listen, Cori . . . " Luke looked uncomfortable. "A lot of hopes are riding on you. So just . . . Kill some monsters for me, okay? And, be sure to get back alive," he winked.

We hugged. Luke patted Grover's head between his horns, hugged Annabeth good-bye, who looked like she might pass out, and gave Will a short nod, who only smiled. It was a bit fake if you ask me, but I'm not the one to talk. But honestly, those two acted weird.

After Luke was gone, I told Annabeth, "You're hyperventilating, " I smirked at her.

"Am not. "

"You let him capture the flag instead of you, didn't you?" When I saw her blush my smirk only grew wider.

"Oh . . . Why do I want to go anywhere with you, Cori?"

" 'Cuz, I'm just awesome," I said cheekily.

"Girls," Will said, getting in between us, his front facing me and his back Annabeth, using his arms to separate us. "You're both pretty. Now knock it off."

We turned our glares at him.

Annabeth stomped down the other side of the hill, where a white SUV waited on the shoulder of the road. Argus followed, jingling his car keys. Will sent me and apologetic smile and followed too.

I picked up the flying shoes and had a sudden bad feeling. I looked at Chiron. "I won't be able to use these, will I?"

He shook his head. "Luke meant well, Cori. But taking to the air . . . That would not be wise for you. "

I nodded, disappointed, but then I got an idea. "Hey, Grover. You want a magic item?"

His eyes lit up. "Me?"

"Who else?" I laughed.

Pretty soon we'd laced the sneakers over his fake feet, and the world's first flying goat boy was ready for launch. I had a feeling this wasn't going to end well.

"Maia!" he shouted.

He got off the ground okay, but then fell over sideways so his backpack dragged through the grass. The winged shoes kept bucking up and down like tiny broncos.

"Practice, " Chiron called after him, while I giggled a bit. I couldn't help it, Grover just was this way. "You just need practice!"

"Aaaaa!" Grover went flying sideways down the hill like a possessed lawn mower, heading toward the van.

Before I could follow, Chiron caught my arm. "I should have trained you better, Cori, " he said. "If only I had more time. Hercules, Jason—they all got more training. "

"That's okay. I just wish—"

I stopped myself because I was about to sound like a brat. I was wishing my dad had given me a cool magic item to help on the quest, something as good as Luke's flying shoes, Annabeth's invisible cap, or something like Will's bow— even though I'm horrible at it.

"What am I thinking?" Chiron cried. "I can't let you get away without this. "

He pulled a pen from his coat pocket and handed it to me. It was an ordinary disposable ballpoint, black ink, removable cap. Probably cost thirty cents.

"Gee, " I said. "Thanks. "

"Cori, that's a gift from your father. It is a powerful weapon. I've kept it for years, not knowing you were who I was waiting for. But the prophecy is clear to me now. You are the one. "

I stared at him in disbelief, my eyes wide, "This is a pen,"

He had this twinkle in his eyes and raised an eyebrow, as if daring me to try and prove him wrong, "Not everything is how we see it Cori. Don't forget this."

I remembered the field trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, when I'd vaporized Mrs. Dodds. Chiron had thrown me a pen that turned into a sword. Could this be . . . ?

I took off the cap, and the pen grew longer and heavier in my hand. In half a second, I held a shimmering bronze sword with a double-edged blade, a leather-wrapped grip, and a flat hilt riveted with gold studs. It was the first weapon that actually felt balanced in my hand.

"You weren't joking," I muttered slowly, looking at the sword in every angle. The balance was perfect, not too heavy or too light. Not too short, nor too long.

"The sword has a long and tragic history that we need not go into, " Chiron told me. "Its name is Anaklusmos. "

"'Riptide, '" I translated, surprised the Ancient Greek came so easily.

"Use it only for emergencies, " Chiron said, "and only against monsters. No hero should harm mortals unless absolutely necessary, of course, but this sword wouldn't harm them in any case."

"Why?"

"The sword is celestial bronze. Forged by the Cyclopes, tempered in the heart of Mount Etna, cooled in the River Lethe. It's deadly to monsters, to any creature from the Underworld, provided they don't kill you first. But the blade will pass through mortals like an illusion. They simply are not important enough for the blade to kill. And I should warn you: as a demigod, you can be killed by either celestial or normal weapons. You are twice as vulnerable. "

"Good to know, " Leave it to demigods to be in twice as danger.

"Now recap the pen. "

I touched the pen cap to the sword tip and instantly Riptide shrank to a ballpoint pen again. I tucked it in my pocket, a little nervous, because I was famous for losing pens at school.

"You can't, " Chiron said.

" What?"

"Lose the pen, " he said. "It is enchanted. It will always reappear in your pocket. Try it. "

I was wary, but I threw the pen as far as I could down the hill and watched it disappear in the grass.

"It may take a few moments, " Chiron told me. "Now check your pocket. "

Sure enough, the pen was there.

"Okay, that's extremely cool, " I admitted. "But what if a mortal sees me pulling out a sword?"

Chiron smiled. "Mist is a powerful thing, Cori. "

". . . Let's pretend I know what this means."

He sighted, " Read The Iliad. It's full of references to the stuff. Whenever divine or monstrous elements mix with the mortal world, they generate Mist, which obscures the vision of humans. You will see things just as they are, being a half-blood, but humans will interpret things quite differently. Remarkable, really, the lengths to which humans will go to fit things into their version of reality. "

I raised an eyebrow. Were mortals _that_ dense? I wonder what they'd make of the Minotaur. . .

I put Riptide back in my pocket.

For the first time, the quest felt real. I was actually leaving Half-Blood Hill. I was heading west with no adult supervision, no backup plan, not even a cell phone. (Chiron said cell phones were traceable by monsters; if we used one, it would be worse than sending up a flare. ) I had no weapon stronger than a sword to fight off monsters and reach the Land of the Dead.

"Chiron . . . " I said. "Was there a time before the gods?"

"Four ages before them, actually. The Time of the Titans was the Fourth Age, sometimes called the Golden Age, which is definitely a misnomer. This, the time of Western civilization and the rule of Zeus, is the Fifth Age."

"So what was it like?" I would be lying if I said I wasn't curious.

Chiron pursed his lips. "Even I am not old enough to remember that, child, but I know it was a time of darkness and savagery for mortals. Kronos, the lord of the Titans, called his reign the Golden Age because men lived innocent and free of all knowledge. But that was mere propaganda. The Titan king cared nothing for your kind except as appetizers or a source of cheap entertainment. It was only in the early reign of Lord Zeus, when Prometheus the good Titan brought fire to mankind, that your species began to progress, and even then Prometheus was branded a radical thinker. Zeus punished him severely, as you may recall. Of course, eventually the gods warmed to humans, and Western civilization was born. "

I just hoped that even if I failed this quest, the Western Civilization would continue to exist. Who knows what'll happen then?

"Relax, " Chiron told me. "Keep a clear head. And remember, you may be about to prevent the biggest war in human history. "

"Relax, " I said. "I'm very relaxed. "

When I got to the bottom of the hill, I looked back. Under the pine tree that used to be Thalia, daughter of Zeus, Chiron was now standing in full horse-man form, holding his bow high in salute. Just your typical summer-camp send-off by your typical centaur.

* * *

Argus drove us out of the countryside and into western Long Island. It felt weird to be on a highway again, Will and Grover sitting next to me, while Annabeth was in the front passenger seat, as if we were normal carpoolers. After two weeks at Half-Blood Hill, the real world seemed like a fantasy. I found myself staring at every McDonald's, every kid in the back of his parents' car, every billboard and shopping mall.

"Well, no monsters in sight," I murmured to myself.

The drive was. . . quiet. There was this tension in the air and no one was talking. Now for an ADHD child is a bit hard to stay still and without talking for more than 10 minutes. I started counting all the trees in sight to kill time, but was bored fast, so I started humming a song.

"Stop that," Annabeth exclaimed.

"Stop what?" I asked, just as frustrated.

"What you're doing, seaweed brain!"

"Remind me again—why do you hate me so much?"

"I don't hate you. "

"Could've fooled me. "

She folded her cap of invisibility. "Look ... We're just not supposed to get along, okay? Our parents are rivals. "

"And why's that?"

She sighed. "How many reasons do you want? One time my mom caught Poseidon with his girlfriend in Athena's temple, which is hugely disrespectful. Another time, Athena and Poseidon competed to be the patron god for the city of Athens. Your dad created some stupid saltwater spring for his gift. My mom created the olive tree. The people saw that her gift was better, so they named the city after her. "

"They must've really liked olives," I smirked.

She glared at me, "Oh, forget it."

"Now, if she'd invented pizza—that I could understand. "

"I said, forget it!"

In the front seat, Argus smiled. He didn't say anything, but one blue eye on the back of his neck winked at me. Will was also shaking in silent laughter and High-fived me secretly.

Traffic slowed us down in Queens. By the time we got into Manhattan it was sunset and starting to rain. It didn't bother me so much though. Being a daughter of Poseidon had its perks— like being waterproof.

Argus dropped us at the Greyhound Station on the Upper East Side, not far from my mom and Gabe's apartment. Taped to a mailbox was a soggy flyer with my picture on it: HAVE YOU SEEN THIS GIRL?

I ripped it down before the others could notice.

Argus unloaded our bags, made sure we got our bus tickets, then drove away, the eye on the back of his hand opening to watch us as he pulled out of the parking lot.

I thought about how close I was to my old apartment. On a normal day, my mom would be home from the candy store by now. Smelly Baboon was probably up there right now, playing poker, not even missing her. If I didn't know better, I'd mistake him for a monster.

Grover shouldered his backpack. He gazed down the street in the direction I was looking. "You want to know why she married him, Cori?"

I stared at him. "Were you reading my mind or something?"

"Just your emotions. " He shrugged. "Guess I forgot to tell you satyrs can do that. You were thinking about your mom and your stepdad, right?"

I nodded, wondering what else Grover might've forgotten to tell me.

"Your mom married Gabe for you, " Grover told me. "You call him 'Smelly Baboon, ' but you've got no idea. The guy has this aura... Yuck. I can smell him from here. I can smell traces of him on you, and you haven't been near him for a week. "

" Yeah, I've been told that I stink," I said. "Where's the nearest shower?"

"You should be grateful, Cori. Your stepfather smells so repulsively human he could mask the presence of any demigod. As soon as I took a whiff inside his Camaro, I knew: Gabe has been covering your scent for years. If you hadn't lived with him every summer, you probably would've been found by monsters a long time ago. Your mom stayed with him to protect you. She was a smart lady. She must've loved you a lot to put up with that guy—if that makes you feel any better. "

I looked down. All of these years. . . my mom had stayed with. . . with _him_ , just for me. _She isn't gone_ , I reminded myself. Not completely. . .

I wondered if Grover could still read my emotions, mixed up as they were. I was glad he, Will and Annabeth were with me, but I felt guilty that I hadn't been straight with them. I hadn't told them the real reason I'd said yes to this crazy quest.

The truth was, I didn't care about retrieving Zeus's lightning bolt, or saving the world, or even helping my father out of trouble. The more I thought about it, I resented Poseidon for never visiting me, never helping my mom, never even sending a lousy child-support check. He'd only claimed me because he needed a job done.

All I cared about was my mom. Hades had taken her unfairly, and Hades was going to give her back.

 _You will be betrayed by one who calls you a friend_ , the Oracle whispered in my mind. _You will fail to save what matters most in the end._

 _Shut up. You know nothing_ , I told it.

The rain kept coming down.

We got restless waiting for the bus and decided to play some Hacky Sack with one of Grover's apples. Annabeth was okay, but Will was unbelievable. He could bounce the apple off his knee, his elbow, his shoulder, whatever. I wasn't too bad myself.

The game ended when I 'accidentally' tossed the apple toward Grover and it got too close to his mouth. In one mega goat bite, our Hacky Sack disappeared—core, stem, and all.

Grover blushed. He tried to apologize, but we were too busy cracking up. My sides were hurting after that.

Finally the bus came. As we stood in line to board, Grover started looking around, sniffing the air like he smelled his favorite school cafeteria delicacy-enchiladas.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I don't know, " he said tensely. "Maybe it's nothing. "

"Grover," I whispered. "You can tell me. If it's a monster. . ."

"It's okay," was all he said.

But I could tell it wasn't okay. I started looking over my shoulder, too.

I was relieved when we finally got on board and found seats together in the back of the bus. We stowed our backpacks. Annabeth kept slapping her Yankees cap nervously against her thigh.

As the last passengers got on, Annabeth clamped her hand onto my knee. "Cori. "

An old lady had just boarded the bus. She wore a crumpled velvet dress, lace gloves, and a shapeless orange-knit hat that shadowed her face, and she carried a big paisley purse. When she tilted her head up, her black eyes glittered, and my heart skipped a beat.

It was Mrs. Dodds. Older, more withered and more bat-like, but definitely the same evil face, and those glowing red eyes.

Behind her came two more old ladies: one in a green hat, one in a purple hat. Otherwise they looked exactly like Mrs. Dodds—same gnarled hands, paisley handbags, wrinkled velvet dresses. Triplet demon grandmothers. Leave it to monsters to be creative.

They sat in the front row, right behind the driver. The two on the aisle crossed their legs over the walkway, making an X. It was casual enough, but it sent a clear message: nobody leaves.

The bus pulled out of the station, and we headed through the slick streets of Manhattan. "She didn't stay dead long, " I said. "Chiron said they could be dispelled for a lifetime. "

"He said if you're lucky, " Annabeth said. "You're obviously not. "

"Can someone tell me what's going _on_?" Will demanded.

"All three of them, " Grover whimpered. "Di immortales!"

"It's okay, " Annabeth said, obviously thinking hard. "The Furies. The three worst monsters from the Underworld. No problem."

"Wait, those ugly great-grandmothers are the furies?" Will asked.

"Yep," I said. "Yell some more. I think there are some people in China that haven't heard you yet." I rolled my eyes at him.

He laughed dryly.

Meanwhile Annabeth was still trying to make herself believe that there was no problem at all, "No problem. We'll just slip out the windows."

"They don't open, " Grover moaned.

"A back exit?" she suggested.

There wasn't one. Even if there had been, it wouldn't have helped. By that time, we were on Ninth Avenue, heading for the Lincoln Tunnel.

"Maybe an emergency exit in the roof . . . ?"

We hit the Lincoln Tunnel, and the bus went dark except for the running lights down the aisle. It was eerily quiet without the sound of the rain.

Mrs. Dodds got up. In a flat voice, as if she'd rehearsed it over and over, she announced to the whole bus: "I need to use the restroom. "

"So do I, " said the second sister.

"So do I, " said the third sister.

They all started coming down the aisle.

"I've got it, " Annabeth said. "Cori, take my hat. "

"Why?"

"You're the one they want. Turn invisible and go up the aisle. Let them pass you. Maybe you can get to the front and get away. "

"But you guys—"

"There's an outside chance they might not notice us, " Annabeth said. "You're a child of one of the Big Three. Your smell might be overpowering. "

"I can't just leave you. "

"Don't worry about us, " Grover said. "Go!"

"No!"

Will sighted, "Cori, just wear the stupid hat. We'll be fine. Now go."

I felt like a coward leaving my friends there. Alone. I took the Yankees cap and put it on.

When I looked down, my body wasn't there anymore.

I started creeping up the aisle. I managed to get up ten rows, then duck into an empty seat just as the Furies walked past.

Mrs. Dodds stopped, sniffing, and looked straight at me. I might've skipped a heartbeat. I tried not to breath heavily and rapidly, maybe that way she's not going to find out I'm there.

Apparently she didn't see anything. She and her sisters kept going.

I was free. I made it to the front of the bus. We were almost through the Lincoln Tunnel now. I was about to press the emergency stop button when I heard hideous wailing from the back row.

The old ladies were not old ladies anymore. Their faces were still the same—I guess those couldn't get any uglier— but their bodies had shriveled into leathery brown hag bodies with bat's wings and hands and feet like gargoyle claws. Their handbags had turned into fiery whips.

The Furies surrounded Grover, Annabeth and Will, lashing their whips, hissing: "Where is it? Where?"

The other people on the bus were screaming, cowering in their seats. They saw something, all right.

"She's not here!" Annabeth yelled. "She's gone!"

The Furies raised their whips.

Annabeth drew her bronze knife. Will turned his ring into his golden bow and positioned himself, so as to be ready to shoot anytime. Grover grabbed a tin can from his snack bag and prepared to throw it.

What I did next was so impulsive and dangerous I should've been named ADHD poster child of the year.

The bus driver was distracted, trying to see what was going on in his rearview mirror.

Still invisible, I grabbed the wheel from him and jerked it to the left. Everybody howled as they were thrown to the right, and I heard what I hoped was the sound of three Furies smashing against the windows.

"Hey!" the driver yelled. "Hey—whoa!"

We wrestled for the wheel. The bus slammed against the side of the tunnel, grinding metal, throwing sparks a mile behind us.

We careened out of the Lincoln Tunnel and back into the rainstorm, people and monsters tossed around the bus, cars plowed aside like bowling pins.

Somehow the driver found an exit. We shot off the highway, through half a dozen traffic lights, and ended up barreling down one of those New Jersey rural roads where you can't believe there's so much nothing right across the river from New York. There were woods to our left, the Hudson River to our right, and the driver seemed to be veering toward the river.

Today I must've been full of brilliant ideas because the next thing I did was a perfect example of that: I hit the emergency brake.

The bus wailed, spun a full circle on the wet asphalt, and crashed into the trees. The emergency lights came on. The door flew open. The bus driver was the first one out, the passengers yelling as they stampeded after him. I stepped into the driver's seat and let them pass.

The Furies regained their balance. They lashed their whips at Annabeth while she waved her knife and yelled in Ancient Greek, telling them to back off. Grover threw tin cans. Will was trying to shoot an arrow at one of them, but since the fury was less than a meter away from him, he couldn't really do it.

I looked at the open doorway. I was free to go, but I couldn't leave my friends. I took off the invisible cap. "Hey!"

The Furies turned, baring their yellow fangs at me, and the exit suddenly seemed like an excellent idea. Mrs. Dodds stalked up the aisle, just as she used to do in class, about to deliver my F- math test. Every time she flicked her whip, red flames danced along the barbed leather.

Her two ugly sisters hopped on top of the seats on either side of her and crawled toward me like huge nasty lizards.

"Cordelia Jackson, " Mrs. Dodds said, in an accent that was definitely from somewhere farther south than Georgia. "You have offended the gods. You shall die. "

"I think the last part suits you better than me," I told her.

She growled.

Annabeth, Will and Grover moved up behind the Furies cautiously, looking for an opening.

I took the ballpoint pen out of my pocket and uncapped it. Riptide elongated into a shimmering double- edged sword.

The Furies hesitated.

Mrs. Dodds had felt Riptide's blade before. She obviously didn't like seeing it again. I smirked. Bring it on, you old hag.

"Submit now, " she hissed. "And you will not suffer eternal torment. "

"Nice try," I told her.

"Cori, look out!" Annabeth cried.

Mrs. Dodds lashed her whip around my sword hand while the Furies on the either side lunged at me.

My hand felt like it was wrapped in molten lead, but I managed not to drop Riptide. I stuck the Fury on the left with its hilt, sending her toppling backward into a seat. Annabeth got Mrs. Dodds in a wrestler's hold and yanked her backward while Grover ripped the whip out of her hands.

"Ow!" he yelled. "Ow! Hot! Hot!"

Will, on the other hand had gotten one of his arrows and was trying—and failing— to use it as a sword to kill the Fury on the right. I quickly ran at him.

"Having trouble?" I asked, smirking.

"I'm fine," he gritted his teeth.

I snorted.

Will stepped ahead of me, as if trying to protect me from the Fury. _He does understand that I've got a better chance at killing it, right?_

The monster lunged at Will and slammed him in the window. _Ouch, that's going to hurt_ , I thought. Getting advantage of the Fury, I quickly sliced her while she wasn't looking. As soon as the blade hit her, she exploded in golden dust.

The Fury I'd hilt-slammed came at me again, talons ready. I tried to swung my sword, but she dodged. Suddenly, she broke open like a piata. At the place where the Fury was standing was now Will, glaring dangerously where the Fury was before. His gaze landed on me and broke into his famous smirk.

"Having trouble?" he asked.

"I had it under control," I replied.

"Sure," he said winking at me.

Mrs. Dodds was trying to get Annabeth off her back. She kicked, clawed, hissed and bit, but Annabeth held on while Grover got Mrs. Dodds's legs tied up in her own whip. Finally they both shoved her backward into the aisle. Mrs. Dodds tried to get up, but she didn't have room to flap her bat wings, so she kept falling down.

"Zeus will destroy you!" she promised. "Hades will have your soul!"

"Braccas meas vescimini!" I yelled.

I wasn't sure where the Latin came from. I think it meant "Eat my pants!"

Thunder shook the bus. The hair rose on the back of my neck.

"Get out!" Annabeth yelled at me. "Now!" I didn't need any encouragement.

We rushed outside and found the other passengers wandering around in a daze, arguing with the driver, or running around in circles yelling, "We're going to die!" A Hawaiian-shirted tourist with a camera snapped my photograph before I could recap my sword.

"Great," I rolled my eyes sarcastically.

"Our bags!" Grover realized. "We left our—"

BOOOOOM!

The windows of the bus exploded as the passengers ran for cover. Lightning shredded a huge crater in the roof, but an angry wail from inside told me Mrs. Dodds was not yet dead.

"Run!" Will said. "She's calling for reinforcements! We have to get out of here!"

We plunged into the woods as the rain poured down, the bus in flames behind us, and nothing but darkness ahead.

 **Another chapter done!**

 **Our little quartette started the quest and met the Furies. I'm probably more excited than you! OMGs I squealed like an Aphrodite girl. I should learn to restrain myself. Hehe. . .**

 **Oh and btw, I checked out Camp Half-Blood wiki and learned that Will doesn't have curly, but shaggy hair. Let's just go with this now, okay?**

 **Please review, no flames, until next time.**

 **~ Mel ~**


	10. Auntie Snake-Head takes a photo

**_Cori Jackson and the Lightning Thief_**

 ** _Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson_**

 ** _Chapter 10: Auntie Snake-Head takes a photo_**

 ** _Enjoy_**

* * *

In a way, it's nice to know there are Greek gods out there, because you have somebody to blame when things go wrong. For instance, when you're walking away from a bus that's just been attacked by monster hags and blown up by lightning, and it's raining on top of everything else, most people might think that's just really bad luck; when you're a half-blood, you understand that some divine force really is trying to mess up your day.

That's exactly what happened to me. Seriously, it's like I offended Tyche or something. Maybe she just hates demigods in general. Or she has a thing for children of Poseidon. Whatever it is, I'll never know.

So there we were, Annabeth, Will, Grover and I, walking through the woods along the New Jersey riverbank, the glow of New York City making the night sky yellow behind us, and the smell of the Hudson reeking in our noses.

Grover was shivering and braying, his big goat eyes turned slitpupiled and full of terror. "Three Kindly Ones. All three at once. "

I was pretty much in shock myself. The explosion of bus windows still rang in my ears, but I wasn't showing anything. At least, I was trying not to. But Annabeth kept pulling us along, saying: "Come on! The farther away we get, the better. "'

"All our money was back there, " I reminded her. "Our food and clothes. Everything. "

"Well, maybe if you hadn't decided to jump into the fight—"

"What did you want me to do? Let you get killed? Become demigod-kebab?" I yelled.

"We could've handled ourselves just fine!" snapped Annabeth.

"Sliced like sandwich bread, " Grover put in, "but fine. "

"Guys, we can't afford any more fights," Will cut in. "If we're on this quest together, then we'll gonna work together. What happened it's not our fault. End of discussion."

I shut my mouth after that. Will could be very persuasive when he wanted to.

We sloshed across mushy ground, through nasty twisted trees that smelled like sour laundry.

After a few minutes, Annabeth fell into line next to me. "Look, I. . . " Her voice faltered. "I appreciate your coming back for us, okay? That was really brave. "

"Thanks."

She was silent for a few more steps. "It's just that if you died . . . Aside from the fact that it would really suck for you, it would mean the quest was over. This may be my only chance to see the real world."

The thunderstorm had finally let up. The city glow faded behind us, leaving us in almost total darkness. I couldn't see anything of Annabeth except a glint of her blond hair.

"You haven't left Camp Half-Blood since you were seven, have you?" I asked her.

"No . . . Only short field trips. My dad—"

"The history professor. "

"Yeah. It didn't work out for me living at home. I mean, Camp Half-Blood is my home. " She was rushing her words out now, as if she were afraid somebody might try to stop her. "At camp you train and train. And that's all cool and everything, but the real world is where the monsters are. That's where you learn whether you're any good or not. "

If I didn't know better, I could've sworn I heard doubt in her voice.

"You're pretty good with that knife, " I said, smiling weakly at her, even though I doubt she saw me.

"You think so?"

"Anybody who can piggyback-ride a Fury is okay by me."

I couldn't really see, but I thought she might've smiled.

"You know, " she said, "maybe I should tell you . . . Something funny back on the bus . . . "

Whatever she wanted to say was interrupted by scream, followed by a 'shoo'.

I quickly looked at Grover, "Are you alright?" I asked.

"Yes, just. . ."

"Just what?"

"Rabbits. I saw a rabbit," he answered, rather shortly in my opinion.

"What about rabbits?" I asked confused.

"Rabbits. Big bullies they are. Always mocking us, satyrs. Behaving all strong and mighty," he said grumpily.

I stared at him blankly. Weren't satyrs supposed to be good with animals? Eh, well. . . Grover's always been weird.

"Well. . . we're going to finish this quest and then. . . work on you rabbit phobia."

He then, started to play on his pipes, making a sound like an owl being tortured. It was supposed to be a 'find the path' kind of song. Instead of finding a path, I immediately slammed into a tree and got a nice-size knot on my head.

"Ouch," I said weakly, rubbing my forehead.

Add to the list of superpowers I did not have: infrared vision.

After tripping and cursing and generally feeling miserable for another mile or so, I started to see light up ahead: the colors of a neon sign. I could smell food. Fried, greasy, excellent food. I realized I hadn't eaten anything unhealthy since I'd arrived at Half-Blood Hill, where we lived on grapes, bread, cheese, and extra-lean-cut nymph-prepared barbecue. This girl needed a double cheeseburger.

We kept walking until I saw a deserted two-lane road through the trees. On the other side was a closed- down gas station, a tattered billboard for a 1990s movie, and one open business, which was the source of the neon light and the good smell.

It wasn't a fast-food restaurant like I'd hoped. It was one of those weird roadside curio shops that sell lawn flamingos and wooden Indians and cement grizzly bears and stuff like that. The main building was a long, low warehouse, surrounded by acres of statuary. The neon sign above the gate was impossible for me to read, because if there's anything worse for my dyslexia than regular English, it's red cursive neon English.

To me, it looked like: ATNYU MES GDERAN GOMEN MEPROUIM.

"What the heck does that say?" I asked.

"I don't know, " Will said.

Grover translated: "Aunty Em's Garden Gnome Emporium. "

Flanking the entrance, as advertised, were two cement garden gnomes, ugly bearded little runts, smiling and waving, as if they were about to get their picture taken.

I crossed the street, following the smell of the hamburgers.

Hey . . . " Grover warned.

"The lights are on inside, " Annabeth said. "Maybe it's open. "

"Snack bar, " Will said wistfully.

"Snack bar, " I agreed.

"Are you all crazy?" Grover said. "This place is weird. "

We ignored him.

The front lot was a forest of statues: cement animals, cement children, even a cement satyr playing the pipes, which gave Grover the creeps.

"Bla-ha-ha!" he bleated. "Looks like my Uncle Ferdinand!"

We stopped at the warehouse door.

"Don't knock, " Grover pleaded. "I smell monsters."

"Your nose is clogged up from the Furies, " Annabeth told him. "All I smell is burgers. Aren't you hungry?"

"Meat!" he said scornfully. "I'm a vegetarian. "

"You eat cheese enchiladas and aluminum cans, " I reminded him.

"Those are vegetables." Will snorted at that. "Come on. Let's leave. These statues are . . . Looking at me. "

Then the door creaked open, and standing in front of us was a tall Middle Eastern woman—at least, I assumed she was Middle Eastern, because she wore a long black gown that covered everything but her hands, and her head was completely veiled. Her eyes glinted behind a curtain of black gauze, but that was about all I could make out. Her coffee-colored hands looked old, but well-manicured and elegant, so I imagined she was a grandmother who had once been a beautiful lady.

Her accent sounded vaguely Middle Eastern, too. She said, "Children, it is too late to be out all alone. Where are your parents?"

"They're . . . Um . . . " Annabeth started to say.

"We're orphans," I quickly lied. Will and Grover raised an eyebrow.

"Orphans?" the woman said. The word sounded alien in her mouth. "But, my dears! Surely not!"

"The woman that runs our orphanage. . . she makes us do chores all day long, and we aren't allowed to eat, if we haven't finished everything . The food supplies are running low too. She beats us up, when she isn't happy with everything," I cried. "That's why we ran away. Please don't take us back there," I pleaded. Our appearance must've been pretty convincing, you know, ripped clothes, dust on the face— that kind of stuff. She offered us a sweet smile and let us in.

"Running away from an orphanage? Really?" Annabeth asked dryly.

"What was I supposed to say? That we ran away from our circus caravan and that the ring master told us to stay at the gas station if we got lost?" I asked. Even the idea was me laugh.

"Your head's full of Kelp," Will declared.

"Oh really Mr. Sunshine?" I asked, my brows raised.

He chose to remain silent.

Smart boy.

The warehouse was filled with more statues—people in all different poses, wearing all different outfits and with different expressions on their faces. I was thinking you'd have to have a pretty huge garden to fit even one of these statues, because they were all life-size. But mostly, I was thinking about food.

Go ahead, call me an idiot for walking into a strange lady's shop like that just because I was hungry, but I do impulsive stuff sometimes. Plus, you've never smelled Aunty Em's burgers. The aroma was like laughing gas in the dentist's chair—it made everything else go away. I barely noticed Grover's nervous whimpers, or the way the statues' eyes seemed to follow me, or the fact that Aunty Em had locked the door behind us.

All I cared about at the moment was food.

"Please, sit down, " Aunty Em said.

"Awesome, " I said.

"Um, " Grover said reluctantly, "we don't have any money, ma'am."

Before I could jab him in the ribs, Aunty Em said, "No, no, children. No money. This is a special case, yes? It is my treat, for such nice orphans. "

"Thank you, ma'am, " Annabeth said.

Aunty Em stiffened, as if Annabeth had done something wrong, but then the old woman relaxed just as quickly, so I figured it must've been my imagination.

"Quite all right, Annabeth, " she said. "You have such beautiful gray eyes, child. " Only later did I wonder how she knew Annabeth's name, even though we had never introduced ourselves.

Our hostess disappeared behind the snack counter and started cooking. Before we knew it, she'd brought us plastic trays heaped with double cheeseburgers, vanilla shakes, and XXL servings of French fries.

I was halfway through my burger before I remembered to breathe.

Annabeth slurped her shake.

Will was eating a little of everything, enjoying himself.

Grover picked at the fries, and eyed the tray's waxed paper liner as if he might go for that, but he still looked too nervous to eat.

"What's that hissing noise?" he asked.

I listened, but didn't hear anything. Annabeth shook her head.

"Hissing?" Aunty Em asked. "Perhaps you hear the deep-fryer oil. You have keen ears, Grover."

"I take vitamins. For my ears. "

"That's admirable, " she said. "But please, relax. "

Aunty Em ate nothing. She hadn't taken off her head-dress, even to cook, and now she sat forward and interlaced her fingers and watched us eat. It was a little unsettling, having someone stare at me when I couldn't see her face, but I was feeling satisfied after the burger, and a little sleepy, and I figured the least I could do was try to make small talk with our hostess.

"So, you sell gnomes, " I said, trying to sound interested.

"Oh, yes, " Aunty Em said. "And animals. And people. Anything for the garden. Custom orders. Statuary is very popular, you know. "

"A lot of business on this road?"

"Not so much, no. Since the highway was built. . . Most cars, they do not go this way now. I must cherish every customer I get. "

My neck tingled, as if somebody else was looking at me. I turned, but it was just a statue of a young girl holding an Easter basket. The detail was incredible, much better than you see in most garden statues. But something was wrong with her face. It looked as if she were startled, or even terrified.

"Ah, " Aunty Em said sadly. "You notice some of my creations do not turn out well. They are marred. They do not sell. The face is the hardest to get right. Always the face. "

"You make these statues yourself?" I asked.

"Oh, yes. Once upon a time, I had two sisters to help me in the business, but they have passed on, and Aunty Em is alone. I have only my statues. This is why I make them, you see. They are my company. " The sadness in her voice sounded so deep and so real that I couldn't help feeling sorry for her.

Annabeth had stopped eating. She sat forward and said, "Two sisters?"

"It's a terrible story, " Aunty Em said. "Not one for children, really. You see, Annabeth, a bad woman was jealous of me, long ago, when I was young. I had a. . . A boyfriend, you know, and this bad woman was determined to break us apart. She caused a terrible accident. My sisters stayed by me. They shared my bad fortune as long as they could, but eventually they passed on. They faded away. I alone have survived, but at a price. Such a price. "

I wasn't sure what she meant, but I felt bad for her. My eyelids kept getting heavier, my full stomach making me sleepy. Poor old lady. Who would want to hurt somebody so nice?

Will and Annabeth exchanged some looks. Finally Will nodded and grabbed my arm making me stand up.

"Cori," he said. " I think we should go now. We must've bothered Auntie Em a lot."

He sounded tense. I wasn't sure why. Will is usually really easy-going. Grover was eating the waxed paper off the tray now, but if Aunty Em found that strange, she didn't say anything.

"Such beautiful gray eyes, " Aunty Em told Annabeth again. "My, yes, it has been a long time since I've seen gray eyes like those. "

She reached out as if to stroke Annabeth's cheek, but Annabeth stood up abruptly.

"We really should go. "

"Yes!" Grover swallowed his waxed paper and stood up. "Right!"

I didn't want to leave. I felt full and content. Aunty Em was so nice. I wanted to stay with her a while.

"Please, dears, " Aunty Em pleaded. "I so rarely get to be with children. Before you go, won't you at least sit for a pose?"

"A pose?" Annabeth asked warily.

"A photograph. I will use it to model a new statue set. Children are so popular, you see. Everyone loves children. "

I felt Will move nervously. "I don't think we can, ma'am. Come on, Cori—"

"Sure we can, " I said. I was irritated with Annabth and Will, being so much of an idiot, so rude to an old lady who'd just fed us for free. "It's just a photo, guys. What's the harm?"

"Yes, children, " the woman purred. "No harm. "

I could tell Annabeth didn't like it, but she allowed Aunty Em to lead us back out the front door, into the garden of statues.

Aunty Em directed us to a park bench next to the stone satyr. "Now, " she said, "I'll just position you correctly. The young girls in the middle, I think, and the two young gentlemen on either side. "

"Not much light for a photo, " I remarked.

"Oh, enough, " Aunty Em said. "Enough for us to see each other, yes?"

"Where's your camera?" Grover asked.

Aunty Em stepped back, as if to admire the shot. "Now, the face is the most difficult. Can you smile for me please, everyone? A large smile?"

Grover glanced at the cement satyr next to him, and mumbled, "That sure does look like Uncle Ferdinand."

"Grover, " Aunty Em chastised, "look this way, dear. "

She still had no camera in her hands.

"Cori—" Annabeth said.

Some instinct warned me to listen to Annabeth, but I was fighting the sleepy feeling, the comfortable lull that came from the food and the old lady's voice.

"I will just be a moment, " Aunty Em said. "You know, I can't see you very well in this cursed veil. . . . "

"Cori, something's wrong, " Annabeth insisted.

"Wrong?" Aunty Em said, reaching up to undo the wrap around her head. "Not at all, dear. I have such noble company tonight. What could be wrong?"

"That _is_ Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover gasped.

"Look away from her!" Will shouted. Annabethg whipped her Yankees cap onto her head and vanished. Her invisible hands pushed Grover off the bench. Will grabbed my hand pushed me too.

I was on the ground, looking at Aunt Em's sandaled feet.

I could hear Grover scrambling off in one direction, Annabeth in another. But I was too dazed to move.

Then I heard a strange, rasping sound above me. My eyes rose to Aunty Em's hands, which had turned gnarled and warty, with sharp bronze talons for fingernails.

I almost looked higher, but somewhere off to my left Will screamed, "No! Don't!"

More rasping—the sound of tiny snakes, right above me, from . . . From about where Aunty Em's head would be.

"Run!" Grover bleated. I heard him racing across the gravel, yelling, "Maia!" to kick-start his flying sneakers.

I couldn't move. I stared at Aunty Em's gnarled claws, and tried to fight the groggy trance the old woman had put me in.

"Such a pity to destroy a beautiful young face, " she told me soothingly. "Stay with me, Cori. All you have to do is look up. "

I fought the urge to obey. Instead I looked to one side and saw one of those glass spheres people put in gardens—a gazing ball. I could see Aunty Em's dark reflection in the orange glass; her headdress was gone, revealing her face as a shimmering pale circle. Her hair was moving, writhing like serpents.

Aunty Em.

Aunty "M. "

Medusa.

How could I have been so stupid? I mentally slapped myself.

 _Now, how did Medusa die in the myths?_

But I couldn't think. Something told me that in the myth Medusa had been asleep when she was attacked by Perseus. She wasn't anywhere near asleep now. If she wanted, she could take those talons right now and rake open my face.

Oh, joy.

"The Gray-Eyed One did this to me, Cori, " Medusa said, and she didn't sound anything like a monster. Her voice invited me to look up, to sympathize with a poor old grandmother. "Annabeth's mother, the cursed Athena, turned me from a beautiful woman into this. "

"Don't listen to her!" Annabeth's voice shouted, somewhere in the statuary. "Run, Cori!"

"Silence!" Medusa snarled. Then her voice modulated back to a comforting purr. "You see why I must destroy the girl, Cori. She is my enemy's daughter. I shall crush her statue to dust. But you, dear Cori, you need not suffer. "

I resisted the urge to look up. Oh, come on! Where's the strength I had when I fought the Minotaur? I was seriously questioning myself if the Fates really hated me.

"Do you really want to help the gods?" Medusa asked. "Do you understand what awaits you on this foolish quest, Cori? What will happen if you reach the Underworld? Do not be a pawn of the Olympians, my dear. You would be better off as a statue. Less pain. Less pain. "

"Cori!" Behind me, I heard a buzzing sound, like a two-hundred-pound hummingbird in a nosedive. Grover yelled, "Duck!"

I turned, and there he was in the night sky, flying in from twelve o'clock with his winged shoes fluttering, Grover, holding a tree branch the size of a baseball bat. His eyes were shut tight, his head twitched from side to side. He was navigating by ears and nose alone.

"Duck!" he yelled again. "I'll get her!"

Knowing Grover, I was sure he'd miss Medusa and nail me. I stared in shock, not moving a centimeter.

Thwack!

I rolled away. I felt pain. Something heavy was on top of me. I slowly opened my eyes and a mop of shaggy blonde hair, and concerned bright blue eyes.

"Are you okay?" Will asked me.

"I'd be better if you weren't on top of me," I groaned.

He flushed red— obviously noticing our current position—and got off me, offering me a hand, that I gladly appreciated, and helped me get up.

"You miserable satyr, " Medusa snarled. "I'll add you to my collection!"

"That was for Uncle Ferdinand!" Grover yelled back.

Will and I scrambled away and hid in the statuary while Grover swooped down for another pass.

Ker-whack!

"Arrgh!" Medusa yelled, her snake-hair hissing and spitting.

Right next to me, Annabeth's voice said, "Cori!"

I felt Will stiffen for a second, probably because of Annabeth. Seriously, that scared the Hades out of me! I jumped so high my feet nearly cleared a garden gnome. "Jeez! Don't do that!"

Annabeth took off her Yankees cap and became visible. "You have to cut her head off. "

"No, no, no. She'll stay right here. Cori's already a bit wounded from before. She needs rest," Will implied.

"Will, she's our only chance!" Annabeth practically yelled. "I can't get too close with her because of my mother—she'd slice me to bits," she paused for a bit, looking at Will deadly in the eye. " While you can't shoot an arrow either. She would make eye contact with you, before you even released the arrow, killing you instantly."

Will seemed to think for a moment. Then he sighted. "Fine," he said.

Annabeth grabbed a green gazing ball from a nearby pedestal. "A polished shield would be better. " She studied the sphere critically. "The convexity will cause some distortion. The reflection's size should be off by a factor of—"

"Would you speak English?" I rolled my eyes. Leave it to the Athena kids to speak all math and science. The evil subjects! I shuddered at the very thought.

"I am!" She tossed me the glass ball. "Just look at her in the glass. Never look at her directly. "

"Hey, guys!" Grover yelled somewhere above us. "I think she's unconscious!"

"Roooaaarrr!"

"Maybe not, " Grover corrected. He went in for another pass with the tree branch.

"Hurry, " Annabeth told me. "Grover's got a great nose, but he'll eventually crash. "

I took out my pen and uncapped it. The bronze blade of Riptide elongated in my hand.

I followed the hissing and spitting sounds of Medusa's hair.

I kept my eyes locked on the gazing ball so I would only glimpse Medusa's reflection, not the real thing. Then, in the green tinted glass, I saw her.

Grover was coming in for another turn at bat, but this time he flew a little too low. Medusa grabbed the stick and pulled him off course. He tumbled through the air and crashed into the arms of a stone grizzly bear with a painful "Ummphh!"

Medusa was about to lunge at him when I yelled, "Hey!"

I advanced on her, which wasn't easy, holding a sword and a glass ball. If she charged, I'd have a hard time defending myself.

But she let me approach—twenty feet, ten feet.

I could see the reflection of her face now. Surely it wasn't really that ugly. The green swirls of the gazing ball must be distorting it, making it look worse.

"You wouldn't harm an old woman, Cori, " she crooned. "I know you wouldn't. "

"It depends if she's an ugly monster or not," I snarled.

She roared and lunged at me with her talons.

I tried to dodge, but they caught my leg. I could feel the blood running down it. Adrenaline rushed through me. Before I even got the chance to catch a glimpse of my wound, Medusa lunged at me again. This time I slashed up with my sword, heard a sickening shlock!, then a hiss like wind rushing out of a cavern—the sound of a monster disintegrating.

Something fell to the ground next to my foot. It took all my willpower not to look. I could feel warm ooze soaking into my sock, little dying snake heads tugging at my shoelaces.

"Oh, yuck, " Grover said. His eyes were still tightly closed, but I guess he could hear the thing gurgling and steaming. "Mega-yuck. "

Annabeth came up next to me, her eyes fixed on the sky. She was holding Medusa's black veil. She said, "Don't move."

Very, very carefully, without looking down, she knelt and draped the monster's head in black cloth, then picked it up. It was still dripping green juice.

The adrenaline left my body. I was now, starting to feel the pain of Medusa's talons. "Poseidon's trident, those claws here poisonous," I groaned. I felt my knees weakening, my vision becoming blurry.

Will quickly came to my side and caught me, putting my head in his lap.

"Water!" I heard Annabeth yell. "Bring water! Fast, she's loosing her consciousness."

"No time," Will said. "Leave this to me!"

Slowly, a soft beautiful voice began to sing softly. I could feel myself starting to glow a golden light, especially from my leg, where Medusa's talons had clawed me.

 _I'm praying to the Sun god,_

 _This wound help me heal,_

 _Until there's no more blood,_

 _For death to steal._

 _I'm praying to the god of healing,_

 _This wound help me cure,_

 _Guide me if you're healing,_

 _Make this flesh again pure._

 _I'm praying to Apollo,_

 _To the god of medicine,_

 _To the god that whose path I follow,_

 _Help me mend this heroine._

Then, as soon as the light had appeared, it started dying. I realized that the voice had been Will's, and it was him that had cured me—by singing a song.

I slowly opened my eyes, "What happened?"

"I healed you," he answered.

"But—but how?"

"Look, my father is the god of many things—one of them being healing. As his children, we are specialists in different aspects of him. One can be really good in music, another in archery, while I am better at healing. Some of us, can cure people just by singing a hymn to our father," he answered calmly.

"Thanks, I guess," a faint shade of pink covered my cheeks. I was thankful it was dark, at least they wouldn't notice.

He smirked, "Nothing."

"Why didn't . . . Why didn't the head evaporate?" I asked, pointing at Medusa's head.

"Once you sever it, it becomes a spoil of war, " Will said. "Same as your minotaur horn. But don't unwrap the head. It can still petrify you. "

Grover moaned as he climbed down from the grizzly statue. He had a big welt on his forehead. His green Rasta cap hung from one of his little goat horns, and his fake feet had been knocked off his hooves. The magic sneakers were flying aimlessly around his head.

"The Red Baron, " I said. "Good job, man. "

He managed a bashful grin. "That really was not fun, though. Well, the hitting-her-with-a-stick part, that was fun. But crashing into a concrete bear? Not fun. "

He snatched his shoes out of the air. I recapped my sword. Together, the three of us stumbled back to the warehouse.

We found some old plastic grocery bags behind the snack counter and double-wrapped Medusa's head. We plopped it on the table where we'd eaten dinner and sat around it, too exhausted to speak.

Finally I said, "So we have Athena to thank for this monster?"

Annabeth flashed me an irritated look. "Your dad, actually. Don't you remember? Medusa was Poseidon's girlfriend. They decided to meet in my mother's temple. That's why Athena turned her into a monster. Medusa and her two sisters who had helped her get into the temple, they became the three gorgons. That's why Medusa wanted to slice me up, but she wanted to preserve you as a nice statue. She's still sweet on your dad. You probably reminded her of him. "

My face was burning. "Oh, so now it's my fault we met Medusa."

Annabeth straightened. In a bad imitation of my voice, she said: "'It's just a photo, guys. What's the harm?' "

"Forget it, " I said. "You're impossible. I can't seem to have a proper conversation with you."

"You're insufferable. "

"You're—"

"Girls," Will said. "Shut up."

"Will's right," said Grover. ""You two are giving me a migraine, and satyrs don't even get migraines. What are we going to do with the head?"

I stared at the thing. One little snake was hanging out of a hole in the plastic. The words printed on the side of the bag said: WE APPRECIATE YOUR BUSINESS!

I was angry, not just with Annabeth or her mom, but with all the gods for this whole quest, for getting us blown off the road and in two major fights the very first day out from camp. At this rate, we'd never make it to L. A. Alive, much less before the summer solstice.

What had Medusa said?

 _Do not be a pawn of the Olympians, my dear. You would be better off as a statue._

I got up. "I'll be back. "

"Cori, " Annabeth called after me. "What are you—"

I searched the back of the warehouse until I found Medusa's office. Her account book showed her six most recent sales, all shipments to the Underworld to decorate Hades and Persephone's garden. According to one freight bill, the Underworld's billing address was DOA Recording Studios, West Hollywood, California. I folded up the bill and stuffed it in my pocket.

In the cash register I found twenty dollars, a few golden drachmas, and some packing slips for Hermes Overnight Express, each with a little leather bag attached for coins. I rummaged around the rest of the office until I found the right-size box.

I went back to the picnic table, packed up Medusa's head, and filled out a delivery slip:

 _The Gods_

Mount Olympus

600th Floor,

 _Empire State Building_

New York, NY

With best wishes, CORI JACKSON

"They're not going to like that, " Grover warned, Will nodding in agreement with him. "They'll think you're impertinent. "

I poured some golden drachmas in the pouch. As soon as I closed it, there was a sound like a cash register. The package floated off the table and disappeared with a pop!

"I am impertinent, " I said.

I looked at Annabeth, daring her to criticize.

She didn't. She seemed resigned to the fact that I had a major talent for ticking off the gods. "Come on, " she muttered. "We need a new plan. "

* * *

 **Yes! Another chapter done!**

 **We saw them beat Medusa and gods, did I have fun writing that! Cori was a bit slow when it came to discovering who Medusa was. . . but yeah. . . I don't want to change her _that_ much from Percy. She's going to need to rely in her friends sometimes (mostly Will).**

 **Some of you, said that they wanted more Cori/Will scenes, so here you are. I hope you enjoyed the part where he was healing Cori, because I was giggling all the time. I have completely created the hymn. I didn't know any, so I just made up one. I tried to get it rhyme, and I suppose it did. Sorry if it's not that good, I never was the one for poetry.**

 **Please review, no flames.**

 **~ Mel ~**


	11. The ridiculous pink poodle

**_Cori Jackson and the Lightning Thief_**

 ** _Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson_**

 ** _Chapter 11: The ridiculous pink poodle_**

 ** _Enjoy_**

* * *

That night was miserable.

We camped out in the woods, a hundred yards from the main road, in a marshy clearing that local kids had obviously been using for parties. The ground was littered with flattened soda cans and fast-food wrappers.

We'd taken some food and blankets from Aunty Em's, but we didn't dare light a fire to dry our damp clothes. The Furies and Medusa had provided enough excitement for one day. We didn't want to attract anything else.

We decided to sleep in shifts. I volunteered to take first watch.

Annabeth curled up on the blankets and was snoring as soon as her head hit the ground. Will made himself comfortable in my right and closed his eyes. Grover fluttered with his flying shoes to the lowest bough of a tree, put his back to the trunk, and stared at the night sky.

" Go ahead and sleep, " I told him. "I'll wake you if there's trouble. "

He nodded, but still didn't close his eyes. "It makes me sad, Cori. "

" What does? The fact that you signed up for this stupid quest?"

"No. This makes me sad. " He pointed at all the garbage on the ground. "And the sky. You can't even see the stars. They've polluted the sky. This is a terrible time to be a satyr. "

"Oh, yeah. I guess you'd be an environmentalist. "

He glared at me. "Only a human wouldn't be. Your species is clogging up the world so fast . . . Ah, never mind. It's useless to lecture a human. At the rate things are going, I'll never find Pan. "

"But . . . hasn't he like, faded?" I asked carefully. I had a feeling this was a sore spot for every satyr.

"Faded! Faded!" he cried. "The great god Pan can't fade! What do you think I want a searcher's license for?"

A strange breeze rustled through the clearing, temporarily overpowering the stink of trash and muck. It brought the smell of berries and wildflowers and clean rain-water, things that might've once been in these woods. Suddenly I was nostalgic for something I'd never known.

"Tell me about the search, " I said.

Grover looked at me cautiously, as if he were afraid I was just making fun.

"The God of Wild Places disappeared two thousand years ago, " he told me. "A sailor off the coast of Ephesos heard a mysterious voice crying out from the shore, 'Tell them that the great god Pan has died!' When humans heard the news, they believed it. They've been pillaging Pan's kingdom ever since. But for the satyrs, Pan was our lord and master. He protected us and the wild places of the earth. We refuse to believe that he died. In every generation, the bravest satyrs pledge their lives to finding Pan. They search the earth, exploring all the wildest places, hoping to find where he is hidden, and wake him from his sleep. "

"And you want to be a searcher. "

"It's my life's dream, " he said. "My father was a searcher. And my Uncle Ferdinand . . . The statue you saw back there— "

"Oh, right."

Grover shook his head. "Uncle Ferdinand knew the risks. So did my dad. But I'll succeed. I'll be the first searcher to return alive. "

"Hang on—the first? "

Grover took his reed pipes out of his pocket. "No searcher has ever come back. Once they set out, they disappear. They're never seen alive again. "

"Not once in two thousand years? "

"No. "

"And your dad? You have no idea what happened to him? "

"None. "

"But you still want to go, " I said, amazed. "I mean, you really think you'll be the one to find Pan? "

"I have to believe that, Cori. Every searcher does. It's the only thing that keeps us from despair when we look at what humans have done to the world. I have to believe Pan can still be awakened. "

I stared at the orange haze of the sky and tried to understand how Grover could pursue a dream that seemed so hopeless. Then again, was I any better? I was leading a quest to find a Lightning bolt— which I had no idea where it could be— and was trying to go in the Underworld.

"How are we going to get into the Underworld? " I asked him. "I mean, what chance do we have against a god?"

"I don't know, " he admitted. "But back at Medusa's, when you were searching her office? Annabeth was telling me—"

"Oh, I forgot. Annabeth will have a plan all figured out. "

"Don't be so hard on her, Cori. She's had a tough life, but she's a good person. After all, she forgave me. . . . " His voice faltered.

"What do you mean?" I asked suspiciously. "Forgave you for what?"

Suddenly, Grover seemed very interested in playing notes on his pipes.

"Wait a minute, " I said. "Your first keeper job was five years ago. Annabeth has been at camp five years. She wasn't . . . I mean, your first assignment that went wrong—"

"I can't talk about it, " Grover said, and his quivering lower lip suggested he'd start crying if I pressed him. "But as I was saying, back at Medusa's, Annabeth and I agreed there's something strange going on with this quest. Something isn't what it seems. "

"Well, duh. I'm getting blamed for stealing a thunderbolt that Hades took. "

"That's not what I mean, " Grover said. "The Fur—The Kindly Ones were sort of holding back. Like Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy . . . Why did she wait so long to try to kill you? Then on the bus, they just weren't as aggressive as they could've been. "

"They seemed plenty aggressive to me. "

Grover shook his head. "They were screeching at us: 'Where is it? Where?'"

"Asking about me, " I said.

"Maybe . . . But Annabeth and I, we both got the feeling they weren't asking about a person. They said 'Where is it?' They seemed to be asking about an object. "

"I don't understand." I shook my head.

"I know. But if we've misunderstood something about this quest, and we only have nine days to find the master bolt... " He looked at me like he was hoping for answers, but I didn't have any.

I thought about what Medusa had said: I was being used by the gods. What lay ahead of me was worse than petrification. "I haven't been straight with you, " 1 told Grover. "I don't care about the master bolt. I agreed to go to the Underworld so I could bring back my mother. "

Grover blew a soft note on his pipes. "I know that, Cori. But are you sure that's the only reason?"

"I'm not doing it to help my father."

Grover gazed down from his tree branch. "Look, Cori, I'm not as smart as Annabeth. I'm not as understanding as Will. I'm not as brave as you. But I'm pretty good at reading emotions. You're glad your dad is alive. You feel good that he's claimed you, and part of you wants to make him proud. That's why you mailed Medusa's head to Olympus. You wanted him to notice what you'd done. "

"Do not!"

Grover pulled his feet up onto the branch. "Okay, Cori. Whatever. "

"Besides, I haven't done anything worth bragging about. We barely got out of New York and we're stuck here with no money and no way west. "

Grover looked at the night sky, like he was thinking about that problem. "How about I take first watch, huh? You get some sleep. "

I wanted to protest, but he started to play Mozart, soft and sweet, and I turned away, my eyes stinging. After a few bars of Piano Concerto no. 12, I was asleep.

I had a _wonderful_ dream.

* * *

 _I stood in a dark cavern before a gaping pit. Gray mist creatures churned all around me, whispering rags of smoke that I somehow knew were the spirits of the dead._

 _They tugged at my clothes, trying to pull me back, but I felt compelled to walk forward to the very edge of the chasm._

 _Looking down made me dizzy.I felt myself shiver a bit._

 _The pit yawned so wide and was so completely black, I knew it must be bottomless. Yet I had a feeling that some-thing was trying to rise from the abyss, something huge and evil._

 _The little hero, an amused voice echoed far down in the darkness. Too weak, too young, but perhaps you will do._

 _I narrowed my eyes. I hope I'm not thinking in the same lines as this voice. . . for its own good._

 _They have misled you, girl, it said. Barter with me. I will give you what you want._

 _I narrowed my eyes even more and replied, "Sorry pedophile voice in a bottomless pit. You offer's gotta wait!"_

 _A shimmering image hovered over the void: my mother, frozen at_ _the moment she'd dissolved in a shower of gold. Her face was distorted with pain, as if the Minotaur were still squeezing her neck. Her eyes looked directly at me, pleading: Go!_

 _I tried to cry out, but my voice wouldn't work._

 _Cold laughter echoed from the chasm._

 _An invisible force pulled me forward. It would drag me into the pit unless I stood firm._

 _Help me rise, girl. The voice became hungrier. Bring me the bolt. Strike a blow against the treacherous gods!_

 _The spirits of the dead whispered around me, No! Wake!_

 _The image of my mother began to fade. The thing in the pit tightened its unseen grip around me._

 _I realized it wasn't interested in pulling me in. It was using me to pull itself out._

 _Good, it murmured. Good._

 ** _Wake up, Cori! Now!_**

 _I'm trying, but I can't._

 _I suddenly got an idea. I lifted my right hand._

 _I really hope this works._

 _I brought it near my left arm. And I pinched. Really, really hard._

* * *

My eyes opened, and it was daylight.

"Good," Will said. "You woke up."

I was trembling from the dream. I could still feel the grip of the chasm monster around my chest. "How long was I asleep?"

"Long enough for me to cook breakfast. " Will tossed me a bag of nacho-flavored corn chips from Aunty Em's snack bar. "And Grover and Annabeth went exploring. Look, they found a friend. "

My eyes had trouble focusing.

Grover was sitting cross-legged on a blanket—with Annabeth on his right— with something fuzzy in his lap, a dirty, unnaturally pink stuffed animal.

No. It wasn't a stuffed animal. It was a pink poodle.

The poodle yapped at me suspiciously. Grover said, "No, she's not. "

I blinked. "Are you . . . Talking to that thing?"

The poodle growled.

"This thing, " Grover warned, "is our ticket west. Be nice to him. "

"You mean 'it', right?"

Grover ignored the question. "Cori, meet Gladiola. Gladiola, Cori. "

I stared at Will, figuring he'd crack up at this practical joke they were playing on me, but he looked deadly serious.

"I'm not saying hello to a pink poodle, " I said. "Forget it. "

"Cori, " Annabeth said. "I said hello to the poodle. You say hello to the poodle. "

The poodle growled.

I said hello to the poodle.

Grover explained that he'd come across Gladiola in the woods and they'd struck up a conversation. The poodle had run away from a rich local family, who'd posted a $200 reward for his return. Gladiola didn't really want to go back to his family, but he was willing to if it meant helping Grover.

"How does Gladiola know about the reward?" I asked.

"He read the signs, " Grover said. "Duh. "

"Of course, " I said. "Silly me. "

"So we turn in Gladiola, " Annabth explained in her best strategy voice, "we get money, and we buy tickets to Los Angeles. Simple. "

I thought about my dream—the whispering voices of the dead, the thing in the chasm, and my mother's face, shimmering as it dissolved into gold. All that might be waiting for me in the West.

"Not another bus, " I said warily.

"No, " Will agreed.

He pointed downhill, toward train tracks I hadn't been able to see last night in the dark. "There's an Amtrak station half a mile that way. According to Gladiola, the west-bound train leaves at noon. "

* * *

 **I'm sorry if I made you wait too much, but I my internet network wasn't really working. Anyways, this isn't my best chapter, it's actually my shortest one and I apologize. Again. This was more of a filler chapter, anyways. I promise the other one will come out faster.**

 **Also, I'm thinking of starting a new fanfiction once this one is over. It'll be a crossover between HP and PJO, about Jason's twin sister. It'll be in the Golden Trio era and will take place in Hogwarts and Camp Jupiter. I know that it will be a bit hard writing it, considering that I'd have to write everything on my own ( I don't have much information on what happened on Camp Jupiter while Percy was at CHB), but I think it'll be fun.**

 **So, how do you say? Do you want me to write it or not?**

 **Please review, no flames.**

 **~ Mel**


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